#for the most part they are interesting all on their own

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

not enough discussion about the gavins' complicated relationship with feminine-coded/beauty products, i don't think.

[cottonlemonade]

Mr Steal Your Girl

word count: 1311 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Kenma x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, University

warnings: spoilers

synopsis: Kenma tries to ask you out but has awful timing

It was already hard enough to dress for a normal date but finding an outfit for a blind date you didn’t want to go to to begin with was impossible.

Your best friend was annoyed that she couldn’t take you and your chronically single self on any double dates and so decided to take matters into her own hands. At least once every few months she would close her eyes and pick a random guy walking around the campus cafeteria and ask if he was interested in a “cool, funny, smart girl that was just too shy to ask herself” and most of the time that was enough. The date was set, your friend dragged you along and you had a miserable two hours before being allowed to return to your natural habitat - your dorm room.

In her defense, most guys she selected were actually very nice. And except for the last one who had forgotten his wallet, then ate his weight in burgers, let you pay, and had since vanished without a trace or payback, they all knew how to behave. They kept the conversations going, complimented you, and usually asked for a second date, but you liked being alone and besides, dating was stressful. Who needed the whole hassle of getting dressed up and leaving the house? You wanted someone who liked to spend their time indoors, watch movies, play games, build a Lego set or two, snuggle, and snack.

Kenma was convinced that you were perfect for him. Witty, had excellent taste in games and music, and a figure that put every body pillow he ever received as a promo gift to shame. He spent the better part of any lecture twirling his pen in his long fingers and staring at the back of your head, then quickly snapping his eyes the other way, pretending to look intently at the monitor upfront if you happened to turn around during a stretch. He remembered overhearing one of his former classmates once saying that asking someone out was easy, but now that Kenma absently drew a heart with your initials on the side of his notes, he found he didn’t share that sentiment. Partly because he didn’t like to go out in the first place, so how would he convincingly invite someone to something he didn’t even want to go to either?

None of his friends knew about his crush on you and he wasn’t going to admit it to them. Not because he would be embarrassed if they knew, but because he didn’t want to be grouped together with your small and not-so-secret on-campus fan club - a bunch of desperate boys who all wanted a piece of the chubby queen of homebodies. So he denied any allegations that quickening his sluggish steps on the way to the lecture hall to sit in your vicinity, his sleep-deprived heart eyes and doodle-adorned notepads meant anything. Pondering, he tapped the tip of his pen onto the paper, trying to figure out a way to invite you to play games with him, romantically. He wasn‘t going to stoop as low as to ask Kuroo for help and instead took to the wild seas of the internet for advice.

As he scrolled through the many many forums, sifting through mostly bad ideas, he overheard one of your friends say, “It‘s just dinner and a movie. Give him a chance. He is the captain of the swim team after all.“

Kenma‘s heart sank - and then bounced back up immediately when you groaned.

“Look, it‘s sweet and … a little concerning how much you care about my love life, but I‘m not interested in him. Or anyone really. I just prefer to be alone.“

100% understanding and agreeing with you, Kenma chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking if it would come across as weird and creepy if he were to ask you to be alone together.

“But I worry about you.“, the friend pouted.

You laughed and gently put a hand on her shoulder, “Not everyone meets the love of their life at university.“

In truth, you just didn‘t want your friend to know about your ridiculous crush on Kodzuken. Your heart had almost jumped out of your chest when you first spotted the tell-tale half-dyed ponytail in your class and heard the all too familiar voice during a presentation project. It was silly, really, and you did well pushing your infatuation to the very back of your mind.

After all, whenever you tried to catch a glimpse of him he would look away immediately, making it all too clear that wasn‘t interested in a conversation.

It was no use either way. Your friend wouldn‘t stop pushing until you were social for an evening so you chose your usual - well fitted jeans and a thin, long sleeved sweater to keep the cold and any potential bodily contact to a minimum. Your friend waved when she recognized you getting off the bus. She was already waiting in the arms of her boyfriend with a tower of a guy right next to them, who, when seeing who his set-up was going to be, looked a little disappointed. Oh great.

Kenma felt more pathetic by the second. All day he had tried to work up the courage to catch you in a calm minute to ask you out before your date. If it went well with that guy, chances were he wouldn’t ever let you go (if he knew what was best for him), so this was basically his last opportunity ever. When he didn’t manage to ask during class, then neither during lunch, nor in the library he never went to before, and neither at the bus stop, he thought he might as well face the fact that it wasn’t meant to be. But he found himself a few hours later behind you in the queue at the movie theater, he heard you were planning to go to. He would have to ask now before he’d have to buy a ticket. As he politely waited for a lull in the conversation between you and the Iron Man your friend set you up with, Kenma tried to busy himself with a game on his phone to calm his nerves. But he became so engrossed in a level that he missed his chance and could only watch you walk away with your friends. He should just give up. This was ludicrous.

“One ticket to whatever movie they just went to.”, he said before he could stop himself.

Just turn around. Turn around and leave. Come on.

But his feet had other plans. With the overpriced movie stub in hand, he shuffled to the auditorium and searched in the crowd for you. Unfortunately, the first marker he found was the tall guy next to you, talking to your friend and boyfriend, leaving you to sit quietly and awkwardly to the side.

He walked up the steps and your eyes met. Your cheeks blushed, as did his, and with the confidence of a deflated balloon, he came to a halt next to you, hands in his pockets.

“Hey y/n, I’m Kenma. I’m in your business class.”

“I know.”, you said and he was already relieved. First hurdle down. Now, carefully…

“Do you wanna go to a gaming café together?”

“Wha- right now?”

“I mean, yeah, if you don’t have anything else going on.”, he looked past you to the guy who just stared at him in disbelief and added in appeasement of your date, “Nothing personal.”

You exchanged a look with your friend who was just as shocked as the others and she shrugged. You turned back to Kenma.

“Sure thing.”

He held out his hand, then felt silly doing so and was about to lower it when you grabbed it.

“Lead the way.”, you said brightly and he did.

[snowballseal]

hihi! i was curious if you would be willing to do a drabble inspired by the sleepy affection with sylus piece, but with out good dr zayne? i feel like sleepy cuddles with him would be so comforting... regardless, thank you sm for sharing your writing!! every piece you've posted has always brought a smile to my face (kicking my feet all happily too) even for characters i'm not as interested in :)

Sleepy Affection ~ Zayne

Summary: It's winter, and there's nothing like cuddling with your sleepy doctor after you've both had a long day (or a long few days in Zayne's case).

Word Count: 1014

Note: I'm honestly so whipped for this man. Like, I'm so soft for him. And he's so soft for reader. This man would turn into a cuddly cat when he's tired, kinda like the misty invasion card (*eyes emoji*)

Hope you enjoy! Thank you for the request! And thank you for your really kind words. I'm glad my writing can make people happy.

---

Winters in Linkon are your favorite.

There’s something about the snow, the crisp chill in the air, the smell of peppermint drifting from the coffee shops. Every store is draped in twinkle lights and each street rings with the song of bells as people come and go. The kids seem somehow more feral and delightful, running through the parks in their brightly colored scarves, building snowmen wherever they can. Being a hunter, you’re drawn into more than a few snowball fights by groups of eager children who want to see your “fighting skills”.

But your favorite part about winters are the sleepy evenings. It’s the feeling of getting home after a long day, a deep chill in your bones alongside the exhaustion, ready to curl up in your blankets with a cup of hot cocoa and a movie. There’s nothing else like it.

And what makes it even better?

When your boyfriend joins you after his even longer shift.

Your apartment is quiet except for the playful soundtrack of ‘Elf’ humming in the background. You snuggle deeper into the couch, eyes glued to the window beside you, watching the thick snowflakes dance with the wind. They look like little ballerinas to your tired eyes, pirouetting round and round and round. Hypnotizingly graceful.

The front door opens with a muted click.

Lazily, you tear your gaze away from the window. You do your best to glance over the back of the couch, your cheek pressing into the cushion, too comfortable to move, eyes half-lidded with sleep.

Your heart flutters at the sight in front of you though. Zayne stands in the foyer, pulling off his many layers of warm clothes with a startling lack of grace. Snow clings to his dark hair and coat, falling to the ground with each of his sluggish movements. The doctor looks tired. His eyes meet yours, dark and warm, hooded just like your own.

You lift the edge of your blankets. A silent invitation.

Zayne trudges across the living room, his steps uncharacteristically heavy. He takes off his glasses and leaves them on the table behind the couch. You smother a giggle when he practically collapses against you. It’s like having a large cat curl around you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck with a long, content sigh.

Resting your cheek against his hair, you tuck your blankets around his shoulders, murmuring a soft, “Hey, baby.”

The doctor lets out a low rumble in response, drawing you impossibly closer. You inhale sharply when he slips his hands under your sweater, his freezing cold fingers desperately seeking out the warmth of your skin. You shiver as they trace delicately along your waist, slotting in the tight space between you and the couch.

“Your fingers are freezing,” you whine, jarred from your sleepy state.

Of course you don’t actually mind, though. Not with Zayne. Not when he nuzzles so cutely into your neck, murmuring the most unapologetic apology you’ve ever heard, his voice low and raspy with exhaustion. A fuzzy kind of fondness washes over you.

“Long day?”

Zayne sighs, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your throat, “I’ve slept only three hours in the past two days.”

Poor thing.

You feel a stab of pity for him. That might be the only drawback of winter, you suppose. Akso Hospital is always infinitely busier with this kind of weather. The snow always brings more accidents and Zayne always volunteers to work extra shifts when the need is dire, no matter the cost to his health. It’s something you love, but also something that worries you.

Brows furrowing, you card your fingers through his hair tenderly in hopes of helping him relax. It’s still a little damp from the snow. Zayne shivers when your nails trace over his scalp. Another shaky sigh escapes him when your hand dips under his collar to massage his nape. He practically melts under your touch, his weight pressing you deeper into the couch.

You’re not sure where the movie is now. The cup of hot cocoa on the side table is likely cold. But it’s hard to care. All you can focus on is Zayne. The steady rise and fall of his chest. The faint smell of jasmine hidden under the lingering scent of the hospital. The comforting weight of his body on top of yours.

Eyes fluttering shut, you nuzzle your face into his hair, hands going still around his shoulders. The two of you stay like that for what feels like hours, drifting in and out of sleep as the snow dances outside. It all feels so distant, your blankets hiding you from the cold, from the rest of the world. 

It’s just the two of you.

The two of you, in your shared apartment, always coming home to one another. Just like this.

Your heart warms at the thought. Nudging his forehead gently, you draw Zayne back just enough to see his face. He looks back at you with those hooded eyes, hazel depths brimming with a reverent affection. Biting back a smile, you lean down to kiss him. It’s a tender thing, a mere brush of your lips against his, featherlight and full of devotion. It leaves the both of  you aching yet content as you draw away.

“I love you,” you whisper, nose brushing his sweetly.

“I love you as well, my dear,” he hums, a flicker of a tired smile gracing his lips.

You can’t resist pressing another kiss to them, your own smile breaking through, “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll wake you when it’s time for dinner.”

Without an ounce of resistance, Zayne settles back against you, his head resting on your chest. The soft thrum of your heartbeat lulls him to sleep, the exhaustion finally catching up and pulling him under. You listen as his breathing evens out, deep and slow.

And while you mean to stay up, you can’t resist the warmth, the comfort of having him there with you.

Vaguely, you hear the credit song playing as you drift off into sleep.

---

I have such a thing for calling stoic men 'baby', I feel like it's so soft and cute and he'd honestly probably melt for it. Idk, maybe just me, please don't come for me in the comments.

[mirroredmasquerader]

This is one of the first few things I drew in color for this nonsense I think

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

"The Last Temptation": One Megathread to Rule Them All - Clues and Speculation, PART 1

By now everyone in the “Rings of Power” fandom is aware of “The Last Temptation” - Galadriel and Sauron scene in the finale (2x08) - so I’ll save myself the trouble of further explaining it, because we have more interesting things to talk about.

What happens in this scene? What is the season building towards? And what are clues, foreshadowing or red herrings the episodes have given us so far?

It's pretty much confirmed that Sauron will pitch the “be my queen” question to Galadriel, again. I usually don’t pay much attention to the actors’ interviews because they’ll say anything to avoid spoiling the story and spill the beans, but sometimes it’s important for context.

From Episode 7 preview, we know that Galadriel will arrive at Eregion and share a heartfelt moment with Celebrimbor (I'll come back to this scene later on). However, the showrunners have teased that 2x07 is an Elrond-centered episode, and I don’t think Sauron and Galadriel will reunite before the finale (2x08) because that’s one of the climaxes of the season. Anyway, my guess is that Sauron has already left Eregion once Galadriel arrives.

1) Will Galadriel resist or succumb to Sauron’s temptation? 

You cannot face him alone.

To me, this scene with Gil-galad is the most important one, when foreshadowing is concerned. Mainly because our High King of the Noldor got it right last season, so we better pay attention to what he says.  

We foresaw that if Galadriel’s search should have continued, she might have inadvertently kept alive the very evil she sought to defeat. For the same wind that seeks to blow out a fire may also cause its spread.

Gil-galad tells Elrond the true reason why he sent Galadriel back to Valinor (1x01) 

Oh, boy, and how right he was! 

But Gil-galad isn’t the only character who warns Galadriel she can’t face Sauron alone because she might not be able to resist him: 

Similar to Gi-galad, Elrond shares the same concern.

And why would he think that?

In 2x06, it’s Adar who warns Galadriel she might succumb to Sauron as well, because she’s acting quite smug at being able to resist him once before (1x08). 

I resisted.

For a while, perhaps.

His eye bores a hole and the rest of him slithers in.

So far, this season, we have three different characters warning Galadriel that she might succumb to Sauron if she faces him alone at the finale. Unsure if Celebrimbor will tell her the same thing in 2x07, but three characters saying the same thing is far from a red herring, at this point.

2) And so, the main question now is: will Galadriel face Sauron alone, out of her own volition? Or does Sauron chase after her to isolate her from the rest?  

We already know that Galadriel is consumed by the idea of finding Sauron, and to destroy him; but now, she’s motivated not only by her brother’s death at the hands of his werewolves, but due to her belief that everything she experienced with Halbrand (and the connection they had: friendship, romantic, ambiguous) was a lie and part of Sauron’s schemes of deception. 

However, in this scene in particular (2x02), Galadriel is feeling especially vulnerable, and eventually agrees with both Elrond and Gil-Galad, that she can’t face Sauron alone because she’s unaware of what might happen if she lets him in, again (meaning, she might actually succumb to him). 

However, from 2x02 until 2x06, Galadriel grows bolder and more confident, mostly aided by Nenya and the visions and the guidance the ring of power provides her with. Although, I would argue it was never her intention to face Sauron alongside Elrond and the others, and this scene was a moment of weakness (or the red herring itself).

I swear to you, High King. I will not stop until he is destroyed and I have put this right.  

Morfydd Clark herself has said that Galadriel knows she messed up really bad, and is on a desperate mission for redemption. However, last season she was also desperate in finding Sauron and destroy him, and that worked wonders, didn’t it? 

Based on this, I would say Galadriel will seek out Sauron all by herself in the finale. We already saw Galadriel and Adar paralleling each other in their pursuit for Sauron, and how consumed and obsessed both of them are by it. While Adar is sacrificing his “children” to destroy Sauron, Galadriel thrown Elrond under the bus (by telling Adar he’s the one who carries Nenya) just to get a chance of finding Sauron and face him herself. 

Galadriel’s pride is her main flaw of character, and usually what gets her into trouble (in both RoP and the books, with her only letting go of her pride on the Third Age when Frodo offers her the One Ring and she declines). And in this case, her pride will be her downfall. She believes she'll always resist Sauron, because what he offered her last time (power) wasn’t enough to tempt her.   

My guess is that Galadriel will lure Sauron out either by using Morgoth’s iron crown or Nenya, but my money is on the first option (as we saw on the trailers).

3) Elrond’s Choice

Before we get into the rabbit hole that is Sauron’s plan concerning Galadriel, we have to talk about Elrond’s promise in 2x04:

This scene might be a red herring or foreshadowing, but I’m inclined to believe the later. And it can either happen in either 2x07 or in 2x08 (during the “Last Temptation” scene).  

Since 2x07 is an Elrond-centered episode I would argue it would make more sense for this choice to happen in this episode. In the preview, we saw Elrond and Adar having a conversation in the same tent he dined with Galadriel and proposed an alliance to her (that didn’t work out, did it?). Adar knows Elrond carries Nenya, but he has other interests in dealing with the Elves, too. 

He expressed to Galadriel his desire in knowing what comes after Sauron is defeated and the fate of the Orcs, seeking out a truce between Elves and Orcs, which would allow him and his “children” to live in peace in Mordor. I believe he will propose this to Elrond, too. In exchange, Adar might want to use Galadriel to lure Sauron out.

And so, in 2x07 Elrond might have to choose between saving Galadriel or stopping Sauron.

But now you are wondering: if Elrond allows Galadriel to remain Adar’s prisoner and she’s at Eregion in the same episode, this theory doesn’t make any sense? How did she escaped? Well, that’s a question for another time, but another character might set her free (one who would make the show more complex and give Galadriel some character’s growth and development).

4) Galadriel’s Sacrifice  

She sacrificed herself to save us all.

No, you are mistaken, Camnir. She did not do it to save us. She did it to save the ring.

These quotes are from 2x04, when Galadriel faces the Orcs by herself and eventually gets captured by Adar. However, it’s the second time in this episode there is a mention of Galadriel either sacrificing herself, or something.

This can be foreshadowing for several things: 

Celebrimbor’s death (since she says this after Elrond talks about how his father once prophesized Celebrimbor’s life would one day be on his hands); 

Galadriel goes to fight Sauron alone (it can be an extra layer of foreshadowing to this happening); 

Galadriel sacrificing herself to save Middle-earth (meaning she goes/joins Sauron at the end). 

5) Sauron’s plan concerning Galadriel 

Sauron is in Eregion in the middle of his “Rings of Power” masterplan. However, and through his interactions with Mirdania, Galadriel’s Doppelgänger, it’s clear she’s still very much on his mind, and is a part of his plans of domination.

The plan is simple: Sauron wants Galadriel as his queen, still. 

But why? Galadriel is not yet the powerful "elf-witch" she'll become in the future.He can see her potential, sure, but would that be enough to explain his obsession? There is a lot of meta already about the parallels between Morgoth/Silmarils and Sauron/Galadriel, so I won’t get into that here.

How strange. When the light... caught your hair... for amoment, you seemed her perfect likeness. 

Whose likeness? 

Why, Lady Galadriel, of course. 

There is a lot of discourse going on in the “Rings of Power” fandom concerning Sauron’s true feelings for Galadriel: obsession, love or something else because he, being an immortal spirit, is uncapable of “human-like” feelings.  

The answer is easy: both obsession and love are correct. The ones arguing Sauron is not capable of love are wrong. According to the lore, Maiar can fall in love, and one Maia did fall in love with an Elf (and these characters happen to be Elrond’s ancestors). Mairon is capable of love. But he’s a fallen Maia, corrupted by Morgoth, and, so, his love is also corrupted into possessiveness, obsession, jealousy, unsatisfiable lust, emotional turmoil, pain and suffering.  

I would even argue that Sauron fell in love with Galadriel while he was on his somewhat “repentant era”, and it started out as something purer, but it’s twisting into something darker as he goes deeper and deeper into evil, until it turns into hatred, later on.

In 2x06, and in order to manipulate Celebrimbor into finishing the Nine rings of power and prevent him from finding out Eregion is under attack, Sauron conjures a vision of “Everything is well on Eregion”. However, after Celebrimbor leaves, he’s left alone in his own vision (delusions) and his thoughts dwell on Galadriel.  

How do we know this? We have several characters randomly mentioning “it’s a horse! A horse! It’s a horse!”. When I first watch this scene I was a bit taken back. But nothing is random, folks:

And then we have Sauron the Poet:  

All of these clues are meant to show us, the audience, that Galadriel is still on Sauron’s mind. And that he harbors some quite strong feelings for her. And this will come into play in “The Last Temptation” scene, like the director of the finale, Charlotte Brändströmm teased on “X-Ray Vision” podcast: 

I think Sauron even really loves Galadriel and you see that at the very end. 

[thedovesaredying]

Fire Meet Flesh | Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader | Dragon AU | Part 1

(GoT Screenshot)

Ghost is the last remaining dragon. He, alongside his human rider, Johnny, patrol their kingdom's border and protect its people from those who would do them harm. Just the threat of a fully grown dragon is enough to deter enemy kingdoms from striking, but this leaves Ghost rather lonely. That is until he discovers you.

He's determined to win you over, but even with no competition, can a dragon who has no idea what he's doing earn your heart?

A/N: Fun little AU fic where Ghost and Reader are both dragons! Body-wise the dragons are more like wyverns, with a set of wings and one pair of legs.

Words: 1,430

Warnings: Unedited.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

Next

“The hell has gotten into you, Ghost?” Soap groans for the umpteenth time that morning, yanking on the reigns attached to the dragon’s chest only to sigh in exasperation when Ghost simply continues on regardless. Nothing the Scotsman can say will sway the dragon from the task at hand, they’re on a mission of the greatest importance, even if Soap doesn’t know it yet.  

At another round of expletives from the brunette, Ghost shakes his head with a snarl, refusing all attempts at getting him to turn around. They’re deeper into the mountain woodland than they’ve ever travelled before, completely uncharted territory. While most dragons are trained from a mere few days of age to obey their riders, Ghost never had such an education, the only remaining member of the now extinct wild dragons.  

He was captured as a fledgling and locked away as part of the spoils of war. While the rest of his species were slaughtered, and the handful of domestic dragons battled against one another, Ghost was left to rot in a dungeon far too small to contain his rapidly growing body. Brothers turned on brothers, sisters on sisters, and parents were made to kill their own hatchlings in the name of their human kings. His once golden scales faded to a sickly white after years of living in darkness, and his throat, snout and legs were permanently scarred from the chaffing of iron chains. Humans had done nothing but bring pain and suffering to him and his fellow dragons, used their loyalty to their riders against them to bring about the ruin of their species.  

Soap was originally brought before him as another prisoner, someone he was supposed to burn and then consume – the first meal he’d seen in several weeks at that point – but the strange human had been smart enough to convince him they could work together to escape. He only bonded with his Johnny with the intention of leaving him the moment they were free, but it would seem the connection between a dragon and their chosen rider goes much deeper than Ghost had realised at the time.  

Even if he wanted to, Ghost couldn’t get rid of the damn human, they were bound together for life and Ghost wouldn’t be able to have another rider until Soap’s death. If he survived the pain of a lost partner, that is. Begrudging as he was to admit it, he really couldn’t see himself bonding with another, they would either perish together or Ghost would return to the wilds, the last of his kind.  

At least, that was what Ghost had thought, what the silly little humans and their so-called scholars had thought. But Ghost knew the scent of dragon, could pick it up from miles and miles away, and somewhere on this mountainside? There was another dragon.  

For hours he’s forced Soap to circle the same patch of land, breathing in lungful after lungful of the delightful smell. It sends tingles down the entire length of his spine every time he catches it, but he’s not entirely certain why. That isn’t what he’s focusing on, however, rather he is more interested in trying to pinpoint where the smell is coming from. It’s difficult with how dense the trees are, but eventually, he spots a clearing large enough for them to safely land.  

He twists about in the air, drifting just above the tops of the pine trees, before he lowers his legs and drops down onto the grass below, none too gently if Soap’s pained grunt is anything to go by. He tries to send something akin to an apology down their shared bond, but it’s no doubt overshadowed by the rapidly climbing excitement building within him.  

Johnny just huffs at him, swinging his leg over his saddle, before clambering down Ghost’s back to the ground. “Now, what’s got ye so full o’ beans?” the human grumbles, petting at the side of Ghost’s face when he offers it. Unable to verbally explain, he merely whines and starts stepping from foot to foot, entirely restless. The display, unfortunately, just gets Soap to laugh at his enthusiasm.  

Deciding to ignore his rider’s cruel mockery of his eagerness, Ghost is quick to put his snout to the ground and begin sniffing. If he were a dog, his tail would have been wagging at a mile an hour, but he’s a dragon, and dragons compose themselves with much more dignity, and so, Ghost will deny any claims Johnny makes about him practically wriggling with excitement when he catches a trail he can actually follow.  

The scent takes him away from the open grass and further up the mountain, through some of the sparsely growing trees, before he finally sees physical evidence of his target. Where the trees have begun to cluster closer together, several of them have been knocked clean over, torn up roots and all, covered in deep claw-shaped gouges.  

The destruction doesn’t go unnoticed by Soap, who starts trying to deter him from his search, but Ghost has a clear path to follow now, and instead picks up speed. He’s not exactly subtle as he crashes through the short bushes and branches at get in his way, and Johnny certainly isn’t helping the matter with his panicked yelling. Fortunately, he’s not so distracted that he misses the massive, gaping hole in the side of the mountain, screeching to a halt when he realises that’s where the scent is freshest.  

Ancient trees form a thick canopy above the cave’s entrance, hiding it entirely from the air while still creating a space large enough for a dragon to easily enter and exit. It’s the perfect spot for a lair, far superior to the dragon stables Ghost is currently forced to live in, miserably lonely wooden structures that no longer even smell like the dragons they once housed.  

This dark cavern, surrounded by only the sounds of nature – the wind, the birds, the bubbling stream nearby – and smelling strongly of a lair is perhaps the most enticing place Ghost has ever encountered. He could easily see himself choosing to roost here, hunting the grasslands at the base of the mountain and indulging in a long nap or two beside the cool stream in the midday heat.  

Poor Johnny had only just caught up with him, reaching out to rest a hand on his hind leg, only for Ghost to start moving again, much to the man’s disapproval. He pokes his head into the cave, noting that it’s much deeper than he had anticipated, with tall ceilings and even a small pool of water at its centre. It’s dark inside, so much so he almost entirely misses the large form settled at the back of the cave, mistaking it for a large pile of stone.  

He realises perhaps too late that the rocks are moving and is more than a little stunned to find a pair of bright green eyes blinking back at him. As his eyes rapidly adjust to the darkness, he sees the large, powerful form of the dragon who had been resting moments earlier. Your scales are completely black, blending in seamlessly with the shadows, and a large frill juts all the way from your neck to the tip of your tail. Your horns are long and sharp, pointed like the tips of deadly spears, and a deep emerald green is glowing from between your bared teeth, evidence of the flames you’re more than ready to unleash on this unknown dragon.  

It hits him like a bludgeon to the face when he takes in another breath of your scent – you're not just a dragon, you’re a she-dragon. He’s not only found himself a fellow dragon, but perhaps the very last female of his species. He’s so enamoured by this discovery that he completely overlooked the fact that the two of you aren’t alone. A gasp from Johnny is all it takes for your attention to immediately shift to the human currently gaping at you from your own doorway.  

It’s rather embarrassing having to later listen to Soap gripe and groan to Price and Gaz about almost being toasted by you when Ghost had to rather quickly snatch him out of the literal line of fire.  

The two of you might have got off on the wrong wing, but Ghost is certain he can win you over. He’s not exactly sure how his species usually try to court one another, but he’s seen how humans attempt to woo their mates, so surely it can’t be too difficult, right?  

[krispycreamcake]

hello! I really like your writing! If you don't mind may I please request headcanons on how laito would react to someone (a bride or classmate or something) who always tried to make him laugh by telling him jokes and stuff. please and thank you!

Headcanons on how Laito would react to someone always trying to cheer him up

🃏- Now everyone knows Laito is always in the mood for fun

🃏- Well to be fair, his fun and other people's fun are two entirely different types of fun

🃏- Usually he likes to mentally mess with you, tease your mind, make your head spin because he gets a sick thrill out of it

🃏- That isn't to say he's not one to indulge another person's idea of what it's like to humour oneself

🃏- Be it a bride, a friend, a classmate, he'll lend you an ear

🃏- Don't be fooled, his patience is extremely thin and unless you're the peak of comedy, he'll get bored quickly and easily turn the conversation around into something that benefits him

🃏- Now, if you're strong willed and can ignore his words and actions, he'll respect that

🃏- If anything, it makes you more interesting, which then makes him want to listen to more of your futile attempts to make him laugh or sport a smile

🃏- Let's say it's lunch hour and you're sitting at his table. Depending on your relationship, he'll either leave you and your jokes high and dry to go make out with some girl in a broom closet, or he'll entertain you

🃏- Over time of course, his tolerance grows and he doesn't believe himself when he eventually starts enjoying your company and your positive nature

🃏- He's grown accustomed to having you around and subconsciously counts on you to improve his mood

🃏- Maybe he got a scolding from Reiji just before school and he's ticked off, tell him how he looks emo, you might get a smirk (you will)

🃏- He'll probably minimize this feeling as nothing other than boredom (he's afraid to admit he doesn't feel completely numb around you)

🃏- It's such an odd thing for someone to genuinely want to make his day better by giving him something without him having to do anything in return

🃏- See this is where it'll kinda fuck him up

🃏- It's not about the jokes or the great atmosphere you seem to carry around yourself whenever you guys are together

🃏- It's the fact that he's having trouble coping with the idea that someone wants him to feel good without the use of sex

🃏- So maybe you're trying to use him, get closer to him and when he's his most vulnerable, you'll strike at him when he's fully exposed

🃏- He cannot have that be a possibility, he'll lose his shit

🃏- A part of him is glad that despite all his bullshit, you're there for him in your own way

🃏- Another part of him is telling him to run far far away

🃏- By attempting to getting close with Laito, even if it's something as simple as jokes and smiles, he'll consider it a major red flag and might not know what to do with himself

🃏- After all, what if he's wrong and he just pushed away the only person that cared about him?

🃏- Humans, women, people, feelings, society. It's all just too confusing for him

🃏- "Ne~ Bitch-chan, you're so quiet. Ah- I get it, do I need to tell you a joke today? Or should we improve your mood some other way hm?"

[cigarett3wif3]

TOMB FOR TWO

Rockstar Leon S. Kennedy x model reader | AO3 18+ MDNI. smut, female reader, drugs and alcohol addiction implied, Leon is scumbag i guess, blowjob, use of coke, deepthroat i guess, dirty talk. tags: @ivmp words: 2,934

notes: so.... dont do drugs/alcohol and idk i feel like i need to clarify, some stuff here i heard in real life directly from insufferable men, so don't interract with such kind of people for ur own good.

Leon loves ladies, he was always the kind of man who loved every woman, if she was attractive enough to his taste of course. Also, he considered himself a nice guy, but a lot of girls didn’t get him. It got a lot worse when he cheated on his ex-girlfriend, after that nasty breakup and a slap he received, it felt like she had put a curse on him. Maybe he is cursed, it would explain why his attempts to form established relationships always failed. At least the passion for music was always with him, no matter how hard it was for him and it has helped indeed him in many areas; gaining more ego and becoming finally a rockstar, which certainly has helped him find lovers to warm his bed.

In his mind, he has already created his own list of preferences, models were always a big ‘no’ cause pretty dolls in the majority were the most annoying ones in his honest and ‘humble’ opinion. A lot of them are anorectic, and Leon doesn’t need a girl whose only hard thing in her mouth would have been his dick. Also, pretty women are usually really intimidating and have high standards, he doesn’t want to risk a possible denial. Cool guys don’t get hurt.

But that list didn’t help him at all, it didn’t prevent him from getting involved with you so quickly. A model and you looked sick for his tastes, dark circles under your eyes and lack of any vivid light in them too. He put two and two together, probably you did often drugs and he didn’t know which ones, he never asked. Your first appearance was at one of the events where his band performed and you were bored to death, gaze leaped around the surroundings, trying to find something more interesting to linger on than whatever this place is. Your pupils were dilated as hell and your jaw was tensed, making those useless movements and biting inside of your cheeks. He didn’t give much thought and he was drunk already while your fingertips were tracing his jaw and a sparkle in your eyes was enough for him. And after all, you agreed to come with him. His expectations weren’t high, another quick one-night stand he would forget about, but after stepping into his apartment you got sick. Vomiting in his toilet until it became quiet and he decided to check, after all, he is a good guy, really. And he doesn’t need a corpse in his flat. Pulling your hair to tilt your face towards him and witness your exhausted expression; your lips parted with saliva glistening on them and circles under your half-lidded eyes got more evident and darker. All this combined led to him having the hardest boner he has ever had.

Your presence in his life only gave him a boner and a headache, also an urge to strangle and shake you like a doll, but he never had enough strength to leave you behind and forget everything related to you. He tried, his mind would fill with thoughts about you, leading to jerk off a lot when he is sober and not recording music. His drunk ass would always crawl back to you, after feeling your eyes on him everywhere even when he was smoking out of a bar. Those billboards with your face, promoting some products and looking ethereal, without sickness all over your face, feeling your gaze as if it was only directed towards him. Those photos were the reasons his legs always lead him to your place, finding you already hammered as much as he is, if not worse, more than happy to let him spill his load in your mouth or pussy. After all, Leon is a simple man, not a romantic one, romanticism has died within him after that ‘undeserved’ slap.

Needles were a big ‘no’ for you, explaining they can leave marks and they are scary, also those are used by drug-addicted people which you believed you aren’t. After all, you like them thanks to your dear and generous friend who shares them with you. While Leon was an old-fashioned man, he has always preferred booze, even after finding himself in weird situations without any memories, only with pain pulsing in his head and hangover. You didn’t understand that at all, it has never brought you any good sensations, also alcohol has a distinct smell you have always hated and there is nothing sexy about it. That’s why Leon was always simple in your eyes, a rockstar with little to no existent layers in his personality; one hand with the bottle and the other one on his dick. In the end, both can destroy many lives.

Of course, whatever you both had going on gave you the possibility to visit his concerts without spending a penny. Leon has never asked if you like his music though, but still, he believes it is good, after all, there wouldn’t be a big female fanbase over anything? So there was never a thought behind his eyes to consider your tastes. Besides, you didn’t attend often, always brushing off your runway shows to which he was never invited. Not like he needed to be there, but still it made him feel a little bit bitter. Other reasons were similar to ‘I don’t want to’ and if to be honest, this isn’t a valid reason for his calls to be ignored.

This time you didn’t have other options, nor Leon would let you skip his performance. Soon understanding it was a mistake, you shouldn’t be here, cause during the entire concert his attention was drifting in between his music and you, trying to find you among many women. Every time he notices you not listening to the sound the instruments create, it fills him with bitterness and annoyance. Time passed slowly, finally finishing performance and emptying his flask quickly. He was tempted to leave you alone, to not give any warning, and get another girl from the crowd, but also this would be risky for a lot of reasons; first, he doesn’t have any condoms, and second, groupies are annoying and he doesn’t want to deal with them for a quick fuck today. The only solution he came across was to leave this place earlier and push you into his car.

The ride is okay, the only noise is some music coming from the car stereo. He twitched a little bit with the switch before, but he didn’t really listen to whatever was on until he recognized his own song. A nice touch. “Your music sucks” you say, breaking the silence which was only filled with his voice coming from the radio. This is new for you, music is his job, and what does a model know about it? His face turns to look at you for a brief moment, he is driving and he doesn’t want to get himself killed cause of you. “It doesn’t.” Leon protests quickly, but your voice interrupts him again, making him groan and want to stop the car. To strangle you. People love him! His groupies would be green with envy if they ever got to know about you. “It does” you say, resting your chin on the palm of your hand and looking through the window before rolling it down and letting fresh air coming in. The wind noise is ear beating, enough to give him a headache, nor does it help with his mood right now. Bashing noise to his ears, but you don’t care. Your voice fills the room, too bad it is loud enough to catch on and it is not mixed with the sound of the wind. The road is dark, and it is already hard to drive after consuming alcohol, but your voice makes this worse. “Your music never changes, mundane, same melody. Boring even, and generic. I don’t like it”

Then you stay silent, Leon’s mind is buzzing with only two thoughts in it: what a bitch you are, how he wants to shut you up with his dick and he needs to calm down, to let off steam. That’s three or four though. Math wasn’t his forte.

He pulled over his car, almost stumbling over from it as the chilly night breeze hit his face, filling his lungs. Refreshing and sobering in some way. It is dark, he didn’t even notice how he moved to your side and opened the door, looking down at your face with a blank stare, while his slow mind keeps processing your words. You shift on the seat of the car to face him with a raised eyebrow, looking so annoyed and confused by his attitude. Leon isn’t sure why he was hurt by your words, but this look was not new for him; every time a sentence would leave his mouth, your face would express an annoyance as if he just said the dumbest thing possible. You are probably just trying to mess with him and this always made him hornier, his cock would start stiffening in his jeans and even this isn’t an exception, like one of Pavlov’s dogs he is. Or this is just alcohol talking.

The inside of the car enlightens your features and it is maybe the only thing so bright in such a dark spot right now of the road. His index finger brushes over your lower lip, tracing the contour of soft flesh beneath his thickened skin after years of playing guitar. He can’t help but stare at your mouth, admiring the lipstick on it, looking clean and emphasizing the shape of your lips. Too bad his digit smeared the color a little bit over the form. You don’t notice that thank God, cause he doesn’t need another comment from you. Silence makes you much prettier. Your hand reaches for his thigh, brushing over the inner part and the annoyance in your gaze quickly changes to interest as it slowly travels down to the bulge which started to form already. Leon doesn’t know what magic you use on him, cause it is much easier to get even half-hard dick with you, while the majority of girls would waste his time and then cry about not being able to turn him on. He blamed this trouble on them, not on his best friend (booze). To not waste much time, you tuck out his cock from his pants.

Your fingers envelop his half-hard length, before stroking, spitting a mouthful of your saliva down on it. Spreading over the hardened skin with a quick and easy motion of your hand, your touch lingers on the spot below its tip which makes him groan lowly. His fingers tangle in your strands, pulling your face closer to his cock as a silent plea to sink your mouth down around him.

“Don’t play, come on,” Leon says, not noticing how his voice got hoarse. “Give it a kiss, doll” In the past, you would be annoyed at his words, but tonight you don’t mind, enjoying how pretty he is when he wants to shove his dick down your throat. Your lips press against his tip and kiss around it, teasing him and licking away precum, finally bobbing your head down. The warm and wet heat of your mouth envelops his cock, your tongue flicks along the shaft. Leon can feel himself getting harder and his hips buck back in response, letting quiet groans. But the bliss didn’t last a lot, you pop out his cock and slap it against your tongue, rubbing against your lips while keeping eye contact with his eyes. The sight is dirty, lipstick leaves its color on his wet and throbbing dick, intensifying the moment.

Until he noticed there was something under your silver sequin top, that caught his gaze only now. But also he doesn’t know what it may be, wondering silently and fixating on your chest. Or he is just seeing things, until your hand slightly lowers the edge of fabric to take the bag with white powder, satisfying his curiosity. The timing made him frown, almost convincing himself you could read his mind. But also, what should he have expected? Boobs would be nice, actually.

He isn’t going to deny a pleasure to see them. That’s why his hands reach for the edge of the fabric, pulling down to expose your breasts, nipples get harder at the contact with the cold air of the night. His fingers knead soft flesh, thumb and index pinch nipples to evoke your moans out, observing your face change even for a brief moment because of him until you slap away his hands. It was nice while it lasted. He watches how you make a thin white line on his cock, almost dripping some on your skirt, and letting a curse fall from your lips. If to be honest, this is his first time seeing you doing drugs in front of him. Also, there are too many ways to consume Coke, he heard about how some women shove it in their vagina, but he isn’t sure if this is true. You lean down and snort it away with an ‘ah’ leaving your lips, while rubbing your nose and blinking messily, trying to shake off some tears forming on your waterline. He was tempted to try, but you don’t share.

“Fuck, that was hot” Leon comments, letting a low whistle. Your hand pumps his cock in a steady rhythm.

The little pause was over, with a giggle and lightened expression on your face, coke does wonders. Your mouth starts giving kisses, before sucking on the tip more eagerly than before, and your tongue swirls in a circular motion around it. For a brief moment, you shift to the underside too by flicking over that sensitive spot, making his hips buck, pushing your head deeper to sink you down along the length. You can feel more saliva pooling in your mouth, slobbering over his cock now, and spit drips down onto his balls. The Coke has its visible influence now, dilated pupils are directed into his blue eyes, keeping eye contact. He knows that state of yours, being happy and confident to do anything, clinging and not letting him go away until powder’s effects don’t start to weaken. Your heart is beating loudly in your ears, not hearing those loud suction noises your mouth does which he adores. Leon’s fingers tighten his grip on your hair, tugging and pushing your head deeper, his tip kissing your throat and he groans, while your nose rubs against his happy trail. Your jaw is more relaxed, taking him deeply and you try to swallow the excess of saliva and his precum, so your throat tightens around his cock, he can feel you choking on his now twitching arousal. It is useless, you can feel saliva dripping not only on his sac now, but also from the corners of your mouth down to your collarbone. Leon pulls your head away before slamming with quick motion his hips against your face again. His cock is slick with your saliva, sloppily moving out and back into your mouth, constant stimulation of your tongue flicking against his head and at the base made his balls tighten signaling that his orgasm is approaching. Initially, his own moans are breathless, slowly starting to increase in volume, as he took more control in his own hands. His movements are erratic, the sight of your teary expensive mascara and lipstick ruined by him and leaving marks on his cock is one of many reasons to be alive, he thinks.

“Do you see yourself right now, huh?” He moans, shaking his head with disbelief, as you keep sucking him off sloppily, making more wet sounds that intensify and fill the air between you both. His voice is at the edge of quiet whine, needy moans reach your ears. “Yeah, that’s it, all you have to do is let my cock just slide in and out of your pretty mouth, doll”

He slams his hips for the last time burying his cock deep into your throat, the head grinds before twitching for a last time spurting out a load of cum. His fingers grip tighter, almost painfully, not letting you pull away and spit it out, swallowing the bitterness that fills your senses, making you gag more. The booze diet isn’t the best one. He lets you pull away, your tongue for the last time brushed his tip and he stands still, his breathing is unsteady and chaotic, while you wipe away the remaining saliva from your skin.

“So….” Leon interrupts the silence between them, he is speaking without giving too much thought, and he quickly pauses for a second, trying to organize a decent sentence. “What about… something formal? Between us I mean” Your eyes don’t even linger on his face after his question, the so-known-annoyance returns to your face and you pull down the sun visor to fix your makeup. “Ew, no” your voice expresses disgust at the thought of being more than just a quick hookup, you roll your eyes as your thumb cleans the smear of your lipstick. Your nose twitches still, even if the effect of the drug starts to lessen. “I don’t like you like that” “It was a joke,” he brushes off quickly, feeling his own body recovering from orgasm and wanting to get away from you, so the bitterness and disappointment would not irk him so much. “For God’s sake, smile at least.”

Story of his life, nothing new.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Editorial Vocabulary

definitions of terms during the writing, editing and publishing process

Acknowledgements: Text in which the author thanks those who’ve supported them.

Action beat: Short description that comes before, between or just after dialogue.

Adjective: A word that describes a noun.

Adverb: A word that describes a verb.

Adverbial phrase: A group of words that describe a verb.

Afterword: A concluding section, often reflecting on the book’s creation or providing additional context.

Anaphora: The deliberate repetition of words or phrases at the beginning of successive clauses for artistic effect.

Antagonist: An adversary. The character who creates obstacles and challenges for the protagonist, or behaves in a hostile fashion towards the protagonist.

Anti-protagonist: A protagonist whose own actions create opposition and conflict, often within themselves or against their own goals.

Apostrophe: A punctuation mark used to indicate possession, omission and, occasionally, a plural.

Appendix: Space in a book for material that doesn’t fit comfortably in the main text.

Asyndeton: Literary device through which a sentence’s structure follows the following pattern: A, B, C.

B-C

Back matter: Also end matter. Elements reserved for the back of a book, including appendix, glossary, endnotes, bibliography and index.

Beta reader: Test-reader who provides feedback on book.

Bibliography: List of all works cited in book, and any other work of interest to the reader.

Chapter drop: The space above and below the chapter title.

Character arc: Narrative that shows how a character changes and develops.

Characterization: The process of revealing a character's personality, traits and motives through actions and dialogue.

Colon: Punctuation mark that introduces additional/qualifying information about the clause it follows.

Comma splice: Two independent clauses joined by a comma rather than a conjunction or an alternative punctuation mark.

Conjunction: A word that connects clauses or sentences (e.g. ‘and’, ‘but’, ‘if’, ‘then’)

Copyediting: A review of grammar, punctuation, and spelling, ensuring consistency and accuracy in the manuscript's language.

Critique: Also manuscript evaluation. Report analysing a book’s strengths and weaknesses.

D

Denouement: The final part of the book in which all the plot strands are brought together and resolved.

Deuteragonist: A sidekick or confidante character who has the most influence on the protagonist, often helping them solve problems and overcome obstacles. Can be critical to driving the plot.

Developmental editing: Also structural editing. The improvement of a manuscript's structure, content, and overall narrative, focusing on big-picture elements. Attends to plot, characterisation, narration and pacing.

Dialogue tag: Also speech tag. Words that indicate which character is speaking (e.g. John said).

Dialogue: The lines characters speak in a book.

Diversity reader: Also sensitivity reader. Test-reader who checks for misrepresentation in books.

Double-page spread: Also DPS. The view of a printed book or PDF when opened so that the left- and right-hand pages are both visible.

Drama: The conflicts, emotional intensity, and impactful events that drive the plot and engage readers emotionally. The focus is on character relationships, motivations, and the consequences of their actions.

Dropped capital: Decorative first letter of the first word on the first line in a chapter. Larger than the rest of the text and drops down two lines or more.

E-F

Ellipsis: Punctuation mark that indicates a trailing-off or a pause.

End matter: Also back matter. Elements reserved for the back of a book, including appendix, glossary, endnotes, bibliography and index.

Endnote: Additional useful information at the end of a chapter or book.

Filter word: Verb that tells rather than shows (e.g. ‘noticed’, ‘seemed’, ‘spotted’, ‘saw’).

Folio: Somewhat old-fashioned term for page number. Also used to refer to a page.

Footnote: Additional useful information at the bottom of a page.

Foreword: A recommendation of the work written by someone other than the author.

Fourth wall: In books, the conceptual space between the characters and the readers.

Free indirect speech: Also free indirect style and free indirect discourse. Third-person narrative that holds the essence of first person thought or dialogue.

Front matter: Also prelims. Includes part title and title pages, foreword, preface and acknowledgements.

Full point: Period or full stop.

Full stop: Period or full point.

G-L

Glossary: Alphabetical list of important terms with explanations or definitions.

Habitual past tense: Uses ‘would’ or ‘used to’ with a verb to indicate events that happened routinely in a time past.

Half-title page: The first page of a book with any text on it; in a printed book, always a right-hand page. Contains only the main title of the book.

Head-hopping: Jumping from one character’s thoughts and internal experiences to another’s. Indicates viewpoint has been dropped.

Imprint: Publisher’s name.

Independent clause: A group of words that contains a subject and a predicate.

Index: Alphabetical list of all topics, themes, key terms and cited author names covered in the book, and the corresponding page numbers.

Information dump: Also word dump. Information that’s necessary to the story but isn’t artfully delivered, or weaved creatively into the narrative and dialogue.

Line editing: Also stylistic editing. The refining of a manuscript's language, focusing on consistency, clarity, flow and style at sentence level.

M-O

Maid-and-butler dialogue: Dialogue in which one character tells another something they already know so the reader can access backstory.

Manuscript evaluation: Also critique. Report analysing a book’s strengths and weaknesses.

Narrative arc: Also story arc. The structure and shape of a story.

Narrative authenticity: The believability and truthfulness of a story so that the characters and events feel real within the framework of the novel’s world.

Narrative distance: Also psychic distance. How close the reader feels to a character’s thoughts, emotions and experiences within a story.

Narrative: Story. The part of the book that’s narrated, excluding the dialogue.

Narrative style: The author's unique manner of storytelling, encompassing language, tone, viewpoint and other structural choices.

Narrative voice: The style, tone, and personality through which a narrator or character tells a story to readers.

Numerals, Arabic: 1, 2, 3 etc.

Numerals, Roman: i, ii, iii etc.

Omniscient: All-knowing. Refers to a viewpoint style in fiction writing.

Overwriting: Using too many words on the page. Often characterized by repetition and redundancy.

P

Page proofs: A file that’s reached a stage in the publishing process where the text and images of a manuscript have been laid out in their final format.

Pantser: A writer who doesn’t outline or plan story structure, but flies by the seat of their pants.

Period: Full stop or full point.

Perspective character: Also viewpoint character. The character through whose eyes the story is primarily told. The narrative lens through which readers experience events, thoughts, and emotions within the story.

Plot: The sequence of events in a novel.

Point of view: Also viewpoint and POV. Describes whose head we’re in when we read a book, or whose perspective we experience the story from.

Polysyndeton: Literary device through which a sentence’s structure follows the following pattern: A and B and C.

Predicate: The part of a sentence that contains a verb and that tells us something about what the subject’s doing or what they are.

Preface: An explanation of the purpose, scope and content of a book, and written by the author.

Prelims: Also front matter. Includes part title and title pages, foreword, preface and acknowledgements.

Pronoun: A word that replaces a noun (e.g. I, you, he, she, we, me, it, this, that, them those, myself, who, whom). Pronouns can act and be acted upon like any noun.

Proofreading: The final pre-publication quality-control stage of editing where any final literal errors and layout problems are flagged up. Comes after developmental editing, stylistic line editing and copyediting.

Proper noun: A named person, place or organization. Always takes an initial capital letter.

Protagonist: The leading character in a novel, often facing central conflicts and driving action.

Psychic distance: Also narrative distance. How close the reader feels to a character’s thoughts, emotions and experiences within a story.

Purple prose: Overblown, poorly structured writing with strings of extraneous and often multisyllabic adjectives and adverbs.

Q-R

Quotation mark: Also speech mark. Punctuation that indicates the spoken word. Singles or doubles are acceptable.

Recto: The right-hand page of a book.

References: List of all the works cited in your book.

Roman typeface: Not italic.

Running head: Text that runs across the top of a page (e.g. title of the book, chapter title, author’s name).

S

Scene: a distinct segment or building block where specific actions and events unfold in a setting.

Scene technique: The use of dialogue, action, setting, and tension to craft compelling moments in the story.

Semi-colon: A punctuation mark that indicates a stronger pause than a comma between two main clauses.

Sensitivity reader: Also diversity reader. Test-reader who checks for misrepresentation in books.

Speech mark: Also quotation mark. Punctuation that indicates the spoken word. Singles or doubles are acceptable.

Speech tag: Also dialogue tag. Words that indicate which character is speaking (e.g. John said).

Story arc: Also narrative arc. The structure and shape of a story.

Structural editing: Also developmental editing. The improvement of a manuscript's structure, content, and overall narrative, focusing on big-picture elements. Attends to plot, characterisation, narration and pacing.

Style sheet: In which an author or editor records stylistic and language preferences, and tracks who’s who, what’s where, and when X, Y and Z happens.

Stylistic editing: Also line editing. The refining of a manuscript's language, focusing on consistency, clarity, flow and style at sentence level.

Subject: The thing in a sentence that’s doing or being something.

Subplot: A secondary storyline that supports and enhances the main plot of a narrative.

Suspense: The tension, uncertainty and anticipation created by withholding information, raising stakes or placing characters in imminent danger. Readers are kept guessing or forced to ask questions.

Syndeton: Literary device through which a sentence’s structure follows the following pattern: A, B and C (or A, B, and C).

T

Talking-heads syndrome: Dialogue that isn’t grounded in the environment or the characters’ responses to that environment.

Tense: The form a verb takes to indicate when an action happened in relation to the telling of it.

Tension: The emotional strain or suspense created by unresolved conflicts, stakes or uncertainties that keep readers engaged.

Tertiary character: A functional character who gives the story realism and depth, but doesn’t significantly impact on or influence the plot or the development of the other characters.

Theme: The novel’s central idea or message about life, society, or human nature.

Title page: Includes full title (and subtitle if there is one), author’s name, publisher’s name, logo, volume number, and edition.

Transgressor: A character who commits morally, socially, or legally questionable acts.

Tritagonist: Third most important character, who often provide regular emotional or physical support, but don’t determine how the story develops.

U-W

Unreliable dialogue: Dialogue that doesn’t match a character’s true voice, mood or intent.

Unreliable narrator: A character whose telling of the story cannot be taken at face value. They may be naïve, confused, or deliberately manipulative.

Verb, intransitive: A verb that doesn’t have a direct object (e.g. ‘I giggled’).

Verb, transitive: A verb that has a direct object (e.g. ‘wrote’ in ‘I wrote a book’).

Verb: A word that describes doing. Can refer to a physical action (e.g. to dig), a mental action (e.g. to wonder) or a state of being (e.g. to be).

Verso: The left-hand page of a book.

Viewpoint: Also point of view or POV. Describes whose head we’re in when we read a book.

Viewpoint character: Also perspective character. The character through whose eyes the story is primarily told, and the narrative lens through which readers experience events, thoughts, and emotions within the story.

Vocative: The form of address for a character directly referred to in dialogue.

Word dump: Also information dump. Information that’s necessary to the story but isn’t artfully delivered, or weaved creatively into the narrative and dialogue.

Source

[elysiansparadise]

I was wondering your thoughts on sun square sun in synastry?

How to deal with Sun-Sun square in synastry?

In general, this square tells us about different personalities, approaches and ways of expressing themselves. Many establish that there may be a clash of egos and priorities. Personally, I consider it to be one of the easiest squares to deal with.

As for practical approaches, I can mention the following:

🤍Maintain an accepting and open environment: This is with the main reason of knowing the other better, understanding each other, allowing yourselves to express yourselves truly and communicate well in case of differences or disagreements. It is important that you work on making this relationship a space in which you work together and try to understand each other before jumping to judgment.

🤍Accept the other as they are: It is important to accept that the other person has a different views and approaches to life and the different areas of it. Instead of trying to change the other, it is better to respect and value these differences as part of the diversity that each person brings to the relationship. 

🤍Look for common points: It can help to find areas where you can both agree, look for opinions or things in common that help you connect better as a couple/friends. Although there are differences, there are always aspects where we can find a middle ground.

Some aspects in astrology that can help with this are the following:

🩶The harmonious aspects between Sun-Moon make both feel comfortable with the presence of the other, coming to find these initial differences something attractive, striking or even interesting. They understand their differences more easily and make the other feel safe enough to be themselves without feeling judged. They feel attracted to the other and easily arouse the sympathy of the other.

🩶Similar to the previous one, the conjunction, trine, sextile or opposition between Moon-Moon makes you feel emotional comfort. They may have different personalities, but despite this, the other provides them comfort, security, attention and care. They have a facility for understanding each other at a core level and can easily intuit the needs of the other. They get along quite well and may have similarities in lifestyles, emotional needs or may find comfort in the same things.

🩶When the planets fall in their 7th or 5th houses, it is very likely that these differences will be what most attracts and likes each other. They may perceive the other as charming in their own way, they may have an innate ability to understand them and it is difficult for their different ways of acting or seeing things to harm the relationship. You can help each other consider perspectives you haven't considered before. In addition, these overlays indicate affinity and compatibility.

🩶Saturn aspecting Sun harmoniously causes a feeling of admiration, as well as loyalty and dedication to the relationship with the other. These aspects ensure that you do not back down with the other, that there is support and understanding between you as well as that willingness to work with the other. There is a deep respect for each other's personality regardless of the differences that arise, because they know how to appreciate and love each other's virtues.

🩶The positive aspects between Moon-Venus cause there to be a deep adoration between you, you feel happy and delighted with each other, you love the way in which the other expresses affection, love and in general emotions. They feel that the other shows genuine affection, mutual adoration is evident and they can awaken in each other the sweetest and most loving feelings. All this sweetness is not superficial, because they genuinely love every little thing about each other.

🩶The conjunction between Sun and the angles can be something in favor for this relationship. If it is conjunct the rising [1st house], both may have many similarities and approaches to life, as well as some traits in common, from the way they express themselves to behaviors. If it's conjunct the IC [4th house] you are likely to feel warmth, appreciation and comfort with the other, you will feel at home and you will feel familiar with some traits of the other person, there will be understanding and patience. The conjunction with the DSC [7th house] will cause intrigue and curiosity like the other, you will perceive the differences, yes, but that will draw you more to the other, you can see the other as a potential long-term partner and you will feel delighted with some traits of his personality. And, if it is conjunct with the MC [10th house], it is very likely that there is deep admiration and respect for the other, they may have common goals and aspirations, as well as ethics and values ​​that allow them to find a middle ground. It is likely that there was even some attraction at the beginning and you caught each other's attention easily.

🩶If Mercury makes a conjunction, trine or sextile with Jupiter, both can learn a lot from each other and be curious about what makes them different. They can help each other see the world differently, they will share many things together and they will show each other new perspectives. They will feel attracted to the idea of ​​being able to learn many new things from the other and thanks to the other. 

🩶The aspects between Venus-Mercury can help them feel a strong intellectual attraction for the other, likewise, they can love the way in which the other communicates or expresses themselves. Communication will be fluid, they may have common interests and similar visions on topics related to relationships or love. Difficult conversations can be handled with more tact and understanding.

🩶The positive aspects between Saturn-Moon or Neptune mean that both can overcome obstacles of all kinds with ease. Their appreciation, devotion and empathy towards the other is so genuine that it drives them to work and strive to understand the other in their entirety, and not only that but that is even more reason to fall in love, adore or support the other. These aspects give durability to the relationship, as well as reliability and acceptance.

[stxrslut]

I think the reason why so many people hate dark content is because they don’t understand it.

Incest for example has been a big topic on this side of tumblr as kinktober approaches and a few writers, including myself have mentioned it.

why is writing incest bad? It’s not, up front. the moment it becomes bad is when you romanticise it. the same goes for other dark topics, for example necrophilia or blatant rape.

acknowledging that these things exist is not a bad thing, and neither is acknowledging that there are certain people out there who do it. it is a horrible truth that nobody wants to exist, but it does.

using the infamous rafe cameron as an example, why would you want to read an incest piece about him?

rafe is a complicated character, and a very bad person. a lot of writers don’t like to take that into account. I’m sure we’ve all seen many works where rafe is portrayed as a sweetheart, a perfect husband who cares and would never do anything to harm you.

this portrayal of rafe has become the norm for many people on this platform. and so upon seeing dark content, they are trying to imagine it with this completely different character. the version of rafe that is romanticised.

when we write this content we don’t write it with that rafe in mind. we don’t want to be with this version of rafe that we’re writing, this is a bad character and we absolutely recognise it when writing him.

of course, as mentioned there are people who are imagining it with romanticised rafe, and also assume that was the rafe it was intended to be written with.

if that was the case then writing this content most definitely would be bad.

but why would we write dark content with a reader insert if we didn’t want this to happen to us? what is the point? that’s a valid question.

primarily, self insert or ‘x reader’ is just the format that we write in. even though we may be imagining our name and or face it’s not necessarily us. reader is just a character, let’s use puppy!reader for an example, she has her own characteristics specific to the reader or character. I don’t think I am puppy reader, but I love to use her character to write a reader.

self insert and second person writing is also a very good way to explore the thoughts, feelings and actions in a character in very great detail, which a lot of writers very much enjoy doing.

this is also another misconception that people make. because in some of the situations the reader goes along with / wants these things to happen, which is very easy to mistake for writer wanting it too.

so now we know that self insert does not mean desire. but even if we don’t desire this, why do we write it?

there are many reasons. one is character analysis. there are plenty of bad characters out there, and they would do that. we are simply acknowledging that.

we like to explore complexities and nuances of characters. this character would want to do that and so how would that play out? who would it be with and what would the feelings and emotions be? it’s interesting to explore darker parts of different characters.

another reason is trauma, to people without it that sounds ridiculous. but people with trauma in these kinds of situations may find comfort or control in reading about it in a safe environment.

I have a lot of childhood trauma, and there are certain pieces of writing centred around that kind of thing can really help me to think about it and help me to control the way I think about it.

now there are some aspects of dark content that we may say we “want”, but that is generally misunderstood.

let’s use a sentence I have said many a time, “I want rafe to fuck me with a gun”. no, I absolutely do not.

I am into humiliation and power play, I also enjoy a little bit of fear and pain in some circumstances. in a safe environment, for example, a fictional one, a gun would be a perfect way to do these things.

obviously in real life I wouldn’t let anyone come near me with a gun. it’s all about interpretation and understanding of safe environments.

when I’m reading a fic where gun play may be involved I read about the humiliation and power play and all sorts and think oh fuck that is sexy. because it is, in this very safe place where a gun is not going to harm me or anyone.

the same goes for lots of other forms of dark content. we might not necessarily want the exact action, but more the sensation or feeling that comes with the action.

but why would we write it when people are going to be triggered by it?

simply put, that is not our problem. I haven’t ever come across a piece of dark content that wasn’t correctly labelled and warned.

I’m not responsible for anyone else’s media consumption, if they choose to ignore my warnings it is entirely their fault.

also, free will exists, if someone decides they don’t like what they’re reading they can simply close the piece, stop reading.

in a nutshell, if someone who writes dark content is 1. not romanticising it and 2. labelling it correctly, you don’t have a reason to target them.

learning to distinguish between dark content and predatory content is so important so we’re not attacking the wrong people.

please stop targeting writers who write dark content when there are people out there who genuinely are horrible who we do need to be targeting. focus your attention on the real issues.

[talenlee]

Game Pile: Kentucky Route 0, One of Three Games About America

Script and Thumbnail below the fold!

Kentucky Route Zero is a magical realist point and click game of what I’d normally call Narrative Adventure, which came to kickstarter in 2011, then came out in 2013, 2014, 2016, and 2020, because you can’t have nothing for free, even things you pay for. The game is a text-driven game without any of the trappings of your typical point-and-clicker where you jam a ladder in your pants and try to work out why you want to put green dye in the water fountain. Instead it follows the haunted mind of Conway, a trucky driver and his interactions with small handful of people on a part of the Kentucky Interstate, while he to find the place he needs to do his delivery, despite being utterly lost.

I enjoyed what of Kentucky Route Zero I played, but the thing that stands out to me in hindsight is its sound design. It’s a beautifully defined game, audio-wise, with all sorts of thoughtful foley for its environments, and the way that even the pieces of the interface that Conway interacts with have their own sort of specific authentic sounds, chonks and thunks and ch-zzzzses.

It’s also visually splendid, beautiful in what it tries to represent in the heightened reality of its setting but also the format of a videogame. These places look good from the angle that’s chosen, creating lines of artwork and bars of cages, depending on what you’re focusing on, and by being a fixed-camera story of its type, Kentucky Route Zero takes on traits of theatre, with blocking and careful positioning and timing all making up part of how the story unfolds.

A story I haven’t finished.

See, I don’t feel like playing Kentucky Route Zero Act V.

Sit down, traveller. Let me tell you a story.

There’s a chance you’ve heard this story before. I’ve anonymised it here, not because I think you shouldn’t be able to work out who it is, but because the idea of focusing on the who runs the risk of ignoring the what. Plus, I don’t want to direct anyone to a person who said something stupid and encourage fights. That’s not the important issue.

This is the story of when someone perfectly represented something, and probably never realised it.

You will sometimes hear me talk about the take that ‘there are three games about America,’ with a tone of utter revulsion and derision. This is from an incident back in 2020, when a game developer and advocate for inclusive games, had an opinion, on the internet. This advocate is well-established and has a big audience, but also, he’s crucially, not a white guy, not a Christian guy, and not an American guy. These are factors that play into what he said, which was, in summary, that while Kentucky Route 0 was no doubt phenomenal, he wasn’t interested in playing it right now.

To this, an actual adult responded with:

This is legitimately the worst take you’ve ever had. There are only about three games that are actually American, and this is one of them. Everything else is designed for export. Kr0 is a precious and valuable thing. It is of immense and intense personal importance.

Now, resisting the urge to argue with a tweet, which is just generally a bad practice that leads to doing things like wanting to be on twitter, and setting aside this tweet conflating ‘this is of personal importance to me’ and ‘this should be of importance to you,’ this position describes the idea that there are only three games that are ‘actually American.’

What does it mean to be ‘actually American?’

America is a pretty pervasive presence, if you’re not aware of it. Most people in the world have to know about what’s going on in America. We know about your Presidents and your Senators and your Constitution, to the point where people can be more aware of how your country’s laws work than their own country’s laws. I’ve often seen it held up as an example of how poorly educated people in say, Canada and Australia are that we believe we have, say, a ‘first amendment right,’ but the thing is you have to ask why there is that.

We watch so much American TV.

We listen to American music.

We try to make our news broadcasts look like yours, because that’s what real and legitimate news looks like. We try to retell your stories in our local languages because that’s what real media looks like. Our children sing songs in your accents because that’s the culture that a multi-trillion dollar economy has pumped into the whole world.

America demands we attend their wars and surrender our living to become their dead and when we are done America sells the survivors a cheeseburger.

This is not a remarkable or controversial statement. You must know, this is not even vaguely challenging to know about. Everywhere in the world is replicating parts of the American empire, because America exports and enforces the vision of the American empire. McDonalds may sell curry in India, but it’s very important that the curry being sold is McDonalds curry because that is how you know it’s an American style curry.

What this means is when someone tries to assert there are only really three games about America, that’s a kind of specialised brain rot that requires you to consider games that are very much about America as not being really about America. And thus we see the other thing about America, which is it’s not enough for America to be the most important place in the world that everyone else in the world needs to recognise, but also, most of America is inadequately America for this vision of America. You saw this in the wake of 9/11, and the election of Barack Obama: huge amounts of American media resurged in extolling the values of ‘real’ America, as opposed to the parts of America where the vast majority of Americans lived, which just so happened to paint a lot of marginalised people living in the cities as ‘fake Americans.’

I am not bringing you unique information. This is just obviously true things if you don’t live within the boundaries of an environment that flatters you as the most normal thing in the world. The vast majority of the world is not America. There are eight billion people in the world, more or less, meaning that America is about 4% of the world, and yet, it is catastrophically, overwhelmingly, deleritously the common touchstone for how things are ‘supposed’ to work. This is through media imperialism, which is mostly supported by American companies exporting all their media to foreign markets extremely cheaply.

‘about three games that are actually American.’

This fascinating piece of doofusry still, even now leaves me agog. ‘Actually American.’ Kentucky Route 0 is actually American, you see, as opposed to… what? Is America’s Army one of them? You know, the game financed by the American Army? What about Call of Duty, a franchise that is in part subsidised by American military complex manufacturers? What about Grand Theft Auto, a videogame that tells the rags-to-riches story of American excess in criminality, setting aside the way it’s made by a Scottish company. Actually American, because American doesn’t mean America, it means one tiny little pool of ‘America’ where the speaker can imagine there’s a realness and an authenticity to the America-ness that doesn’t involve all the messy realities of what it is to be America. It’s the towns of hard-working people, that suffer under your particular description of oppression, whether that’s cities full of nonwhite people or corporations bleeding the country dry, always eliding the social cruelties and terribleness of these places, as if giving people money stops them from being bigoted (for example).

This is then used to recruit these poor, superior Americans, the you know, America Americans, whose sufferings are noble and whose authenticity cannot be impeached and they are then used as a defense against criticism of, you know, America. It’s the same speech Charlie Daniels gave about how foreigners may think they could push around Barack Obama (a dude who bombed a lot of shepherds with the most elaborate and brutal military ordinance in the world) but they were going to have a harder time taking on Americans who wrestled alligators, who at this point have exactly zero recorded drone strike kills.

This is because America America isn’t real.

‘Real’ America is a nebulous nothing that you can project whatever you want onto, and which is also not responsible for anything terrible that America does. It’s not the American Empire, it’s not the exporter of culture, it’s somehow purer, better, a sort of individualised folk who are to be protected and extolled, shriven of all the things about America that make it anything but its perfect idealised form of America.

I could go on.

I really could.

This is something that defines the world I have to live in. I speak English. I’m white. I’m from a coloniser state. I should be able to integrate easily and smoothly into the white supremacist capitalist hierarchy of American culture, but we are told, that no, we are not acceptable. We are only valid as long as our differences are invisible. We, a real people, do not get to have opinions on America, because we do not know True America. When you spell colour wrong in a chat message, when your accent isn’t quite right, when you don’t know the difference between junior and sophomore year of high school, then you are shown, you are evinced, and you are made very aware that you are other, you are outside, you are wrong.

And really, there’s no good reason for it. We send our soldiers to America’s wars, we buy America’s submarines, and we sing your songs. Our currency mimics America’s, our culture permeats with America’s, we even have such a crushing inferiority complex about the empire that there’s an academic term for what we feel about our own media compared to the media of the truer, proper empire to which we are vassal.

The term is ‘cultural cringe,’ and it was coined by Henry Lawson, who you, odds on, have never heard of. In 1894, he wrote:

The Australian writer, until he gets a “London hearing,” is only accepted as an imitator of some recognized English or American author; and, as soon as he shows signs of coming to the front, he is labelled “The Australian Southey,” “The Australian Burns,” or “The Australian Bret Harte,” and lately, “The Australian Kipling.” Thus no matter how original he may be, he is branded, at the very start, as a plagiarist, and by his own country, which thinks, no doubt, that it is paying him a compliment and encouraging him, while it is really doing him a cruel and an almost irreparable injury. But mark! As soon as the Southern writer goes “home” and gets some recognition in England, he is “So-and-So, the well-known Australian author whose work has attracted so much attention in London lately”; and we first hear of him by cable, even though he might have been writing at his best for ten years in Australia.

This is imperialism. This is a way in which we have been induced and brought by the empires around us to accept their ways as correct, as the normal, as default. And that is the mindset you must have if you want to look at the breadth of videogames, with their American ideas like health insurance, readily available guns, the importance of freedom, the ubiquity of air travel, the branding and iconography of types of food and the sports metaphors and then say ‘yeah, this doesn’t have anything to do with America, not really.’

Anyway, this thread, this incident, was a big deal at the time, in that there were a lot of people from within the community of game developers and journalists who seemed very happy to line up and get mad at a brown foreigner for being inadequately enthusiastic about the possibility of playing a videogame. But don’t worry, after a day or two, an apology was forthcoming for all of this fracas, by which I mean, the original developer apologised for being so thoughtless as to, again, express honest lack of enthusiasm in a videogame.

For me, this was a kind of break point, where I started just blocking indie devs on sight. I don’t want to know what they’re involved in, I don’t want to promote their work, and I will hold tiny grudges against them that I do not seek to transfer or encourage in others. This was one silly incident in which a lot of people said something silly because they don’t know better, or they’re arseholes.

None of this is fair to Kentucky Route 0. It’s a game with its own intentions and its own perspective. It’s not trying to make this conversation happen. Kentucky Route 0 has been choked and gripped by this position around it, where to talk about an American game, someone put a cross on it that made it the avatar for All Things America. The wild thing to me is that I had, prior to this point, played two episodes of Kentucky Route 0. I thought it was pretty good, and I liked what it did with the negative space of dialogue options – when a character you’re controlling makes excuses, the excuses you choose show you other things you could be making excuses about that you, the player, didn’t know beforehand. That’s some good Narrative Storytelling Design, I like that a lot. But now I can’t really engage with Kentucky Route Zero because the main thing it makes me think about is how this final chapter, meant to round out the game’s story and present a conclusion and a point, became this flashpoint for a lot of people to be very casually racist.

Which kinda poisons the whole thing for me. It’s an authentic thing, I’m sure, it’s a thoughtful thing, too, but the people stepping up to say I should care about it did so in a way that made me hate them.

Any time you see me say ‘three games about America’ I’m talking about this, and the attitude of a particular kind of American that America is, as always, exceptional. It’s real easy to not realise when you’re just voicing your self-centeredness and how easy that is to ignore the opinions of people around you and what they’re saying. This is what I’m talking about when I mention ‘the three games about America.’

[fade for credit text]

By the way, the three games about America are Crash Bandicoot, Sam & Max Hit The Road, and Bust A Move.

[borntobethequeen]

I’m fucking tired of ppl fanon-ing characters that are SO far away removed from the actual characters and make sure to shove it in everyone faces

Listen up 9-1-1 fandom

Tommy is not a soft misunderstood man! I love tommy, at least what we have seen so far. I love that even within 4 episodes we get the sense he developed as a character, even in the earlier seasons. But he fucked up REAL FUCKING BAD, which as a queer asian person i need him to grovel if he wants me to forgive him. And by bobby’s ep we saw all the old 118 being friendly with each other (THEY BOUGHT HIM CAKE AND JOKE AROUND ON HIS LAST DAY) from that, the way i see it, it’s safe to assume he did apologize try to be better. And its not perfect but an improvement…. we also need you to acknowledge that it has been 20 FUCKIN YEARS since chimney’s episode until now. PPL CHANGE, PPL GROW

Buck is NOT a precious baby who needs to be taken care of all the time!!!! He is probably the MOST street smart character in 118!!! HONEY HE WENT TRAVELING AROUND THE COUNTRY AND PERU AS A YOUNG ADULT, ALONE!!! So ppl who kept saying buck need ppl to protect him from this and that pls remember he passed the navy seal physical exam, he did solo travel alone for years, and one of the most well read character in the series!!! Stop treating him like he is an innocent naive angel, Pls stop! He is not perfect he is a flawed character that hooked up with everything that moved and cheated on his girlfriend, and he made his date uncomfortable by dragging back tht date in to the closet, after sharing his own struggle coming out for years!

Do i ship bucktommy? Sure, its a fun ship! Do i ship buddie? Sure, its a wholesome ship. BUT THESE CHARACTERS RELATIONSHIP IS NOT THE MOST INTERESTING PART OF THEIR CHARACTER, so please please shut up and enjoy the silly show!

[sarasade]

It's been pretty interesting to follow the

"Why Didn't Viren Get Redeemed vs Viren Got What Was Coming To Him"

discussion after The Dragon Prince's 6th season got released.

Hot Take

I think Viren got redeemed.

Because to me Viren humbling himself and acknowledging the hurt he has caused was redeeming. His conversation with Soren was the main event. His rather heroic death was only the cherry on top of the character development cake that has been baking since s4.

I think Viren dying wasn't as significant as what he did before that and how he tried to provide Soren with some kind of comfort and closure, you know, as a parent should, before going. Viren's redemption wasn't just him dying for Katolis but acknowledging his wrongdoings and trying to salvage what he could.

That was pretty redeeming for me at least. Viren did the right thing even when he knew there wouldn't be any reward for it. Even if he couldn't stop Aaravos from destroying Katolis or manipulating Claudia even after his death. Like, man, I kinda feel for the guy.

I think it has always pretty easy to feel sympathy for Viren. Viren wants to matter and wants to be important. However, his grandiosity, as psychologists would call it, keeps him from creating genuine connections with others. His friends, wife and children are only there to prop up his ego or get rejected if they fail to live up to his expectations. It's also pretty damn tragic that Viren opens up about his deep insecurities to Aaravos of all people. Someone who was the most likely person in the world to exploit these insecurities for his own gain.

Viren had to taste his own medicide but I don't think TDP says that's an objectively good thing per se or that we should enjoy this sort of revenge fantasy uncritically. Viren is still portrayed rather sympathetically and of course there is the part about his actions affecting others and the world in unpredictable ways. It's still a tragedy because Viren's actions and personal problems have caused so much collateral damage. The Why behind Aaravos exploiting Viren and Claudia is part of that tragedy, too. There are no winners here. In a way Viren is a victim of his own narcissistic tendencies, too.

This isn't just about the final episodes of Viren's arc. To me it's essential to ask What was Viren's biggest sin he should be redeemed or punished for? Depending on your answer you may have a relatively different reading of s6 story development compared to mine.

To me it's not a specific action he took but his whole worldview. Viren is a fictional character (duh!) so his story isn't exactly literal but metaphorical, a representation of certain values and morals real people and society holds. In s3 TDP draws a pretty straightforward, though brief, comparison between Viren and reactionary right-wing ideologues. It's not exactly subtle.

It's just one way TDP goes to show how toxic and abusive Viren's core values are. that gets reflected both in Viren's personal life aka how he treated Lissa, Soren and even Harrow and Claudia (last two more indirectly). Since he also had a ton of political power as a high mage and briefly as a king we see what he did with that power. It's a pretty clear take on people who dehumanise others, fetishise power and see all living things as something to exploit. TDP explores that both philosophically and psychologically through Viren. Dark magic encapsulates this philosophy well since using magical creatures like tools or objects is essential for it to work.

Also also- I don't really get why people see redemption or atonement as something black and white. It's not bad or anything but Redeeming Yourself For Your Sins is a very Christian concept and Christianity isn't the only way to understand villain story arcs. Like I wish there could be more discussion about WHY redemption is the main analytical framework we impose on villains when villainous characters have a ton of variety anyway.

I don't really have anything to complain about Viren's death itself and I'm not surprised that he ended up dying (for real this time). Aaravos seemed like someone who'd turn against Viren the moment he stopped being useful to him so Viren's life has been hanging by a thread since s4. Viren was the best part of TDP and every scene he's been in had been a delight, well expect the s5 dream sequence because it was too long-winded and obvious, anyway, I'm sorry to see him go and I look forward writing AU fix-it fics where he and Aaravos are married and run a hot brown morning potion shop with all their four totally not dead children. RIP Viren. You lived like a messy bitch and died like a messy bitch. Iconic.

[evanescencelovrr]

Part 7 college!simon x reader. Gahhh this is melting my stony black little heart 🥺 pls leave feedback! Always appreciated! And reblogs, likes are appreciated.

Masterlist here ✉️

“Work…with you?”

“It ain’t a request. I’m tellin’ ya.”

Was all that echoed in your mind as you sat in your bed. Between how he stepped in for you—defending you and now offering you a job—you were startled.

Why did he suddenly care so much?

What changed?

You wondered, eyes roaming around your room. You sipped your tea, trying to stay warm amidst the cold front outside. Simon.

He was a real piece of work.

You had to know more. You felt like there were questions you had about the job—and most importantly Simon. You got up, setting your tea aside on your desk. You threw over an oversized zip up, your hair messed up and left down. You shoved your feet in your slippers before making up way to his door—which was shut.

You knocked. You waited for a minute, then the sound of creaking, groaning, and heavy footsteps commenced. Your pulse quickened and you pinched gently at your arm to steady yourself.

Enough of that—

When Simon opened the door, his hair was a rugged mess, arm leaning up against the door frame, the other resting on the knob to hold it. His brow cocked in confusion—but then realization crossed when he saw you. “You ere’ bout the job?”

“That I am. You gonna make me stand or do I have to barge in?” You said, jokingly, although heart fluttering at the sight of him.

Simon scratched at his stubble before glancing behind him. Almost as if he were self conscious or guarding his room. Not that you were a threat, right?

As you looked at him, you had to admit this overgrown stubble look suited him. Even with the scars.

“A’right. The flat ain’t Devil Wears Prada, so don’ expect much.” Simon grumbled, although his face was flat. He moved aside, big frame against the wall as he watched you slither past. Your sweater brushed his chest and his breath caught momentarily.

He then shut the door, alone with you.

“Payback, you were once in my room.” You snickered, sensing how uncomfortable he felt with you in his personal space, standing in the middle. You tilted your head at the various records hung on his walls, posters that were falling down. Jackets hung neatly in his half open closet, shoes tucked inside. Although a pair of boots stood outside—most likely for convenience. His usual rugged distressed worker boots.

Simon felt odd watching you. It was like his heart had a mind of its own, speeding up when you tilted your head, and leaned to watch his objects. It had been a while since he had a lass up in his room. He shifted and then sat his form at the edge of his bed, torso angled to you. One leg folded inward. He then chose a topic, most likely trying to get under your skin for amusement.

“Fixin’ ya damn window. It was easy.”

“Oh. Right. Because you’re 7ft tall, and I’m 3ft tall.”

Your eyes caught onto his trash can. It was filled and you narrowed your eyes. Your cup was sitting at the edge, from the hot cocoa you’d given him.

You grinned, now you had something to wield and head butt him with.

“You still have that in your room? It’s been over a week.”

“Been busy.” His gruff tone sounded behind you. Simon was glad you weren’t looking, because now his ears and neck were flushed pink. He cursed himself inwardly.

As you roamed and checked out his desk, seeing the pens and pencils for drawing, it piqued your interest. Ink pens, charcoal, and an eraser. Little lamp to the side as you saw when you first met him. A leather jacket lay folded over the chair—“Lieutenant,” written all over. That caught your attention.

He noticed where your attention was, arms folded now, as his eyes tracked you like a hawk. The bed shifted and he tipped his head slightly.

“Easy there, wot, you tryna’ figure me out or somethin’?”

“You bothered?” You cracked a grin widely, and then perched yourself up on his desk, sitting at the edge. You crossed your arms, the light angling at shining over your form.

Simon oddly found himself itching. The more he stared at you the more it became pronounced. His fingers more-so. Itching to draw the way you sat—hair illuminated by the sun, and face partly shadowed. The curve of your lips highlighted.

He shook the feeling off and swallowed, adams apple bobbing.

“Listen, Johnny—my man owns this bar we work at. Mollys. I can talk to him and get ya assigned.”

You perked up, head downed previously to look at your lap in thought—now at him. “Do tell. I need the hours.”

“Campus jobs aren’t much, so. You’re better off here.” Simon shook his head and rubbed calloused fingers over his lids.

“Didn’t know you were a Lieutenant.” You spoke, voice calmer and hushed now. Simon raised his head up to glance at the jacket, then you. He shifted in his spot, then stood up. The bed bounced.

You watched as he approached his jacket and then grabbed at the thick material, hanging it up in the closet.

For a second your heart pounded—had you said something wrong? Your gaze faltered.

“I was. Till’ I joined ere’.” He then said, to which your nerves eased slightly.

You watched, lip catching between your teeth.

“Why the sudden change?”

“You’re askin’ a lotta questions, bonnie.” Simon said, unable to help the nickname now. You sat straighter and sensed his defensiveness, although it was not as sharp as it used to be.

Even the nickname had you gripped—surely something was changing.

“You don’t have to answer. But that would make you a stranger to me, still.” You said, slowly.

He shut his closet door and faced you, arms crossing. He tilted his head and glanced away in thought for a moment—then eyed you.

“Did you not want us to be strangers anymore?”

And all of a sudden the room felt hot. Intense. Your breath caught, throat squeezing slightly. His piercing gaze did nothing to calm you. You shifted on his desk and your thumb sought to soothe you—rubbing the inside of your pocket. You eyes found his—lips parting to speak.

“Just—friends…?” You awkwardly say. You glance at him and then around the room, needing anything to take the edge off.

“Just friends.” He repeated, as if testing the weight of the word on his tongue. He flexed his neck, before moving closer to you.

Your breath caught—and you froze. He sensed it, but didn’t say anything as both arms pinned you temporarily. Long fingers grabbed at a pen from behind you, and a notepad.

No way. He had to be doing this on purpose, you thought. Your eyes stared deeply into his, knees brushing his waist. Your heart was pounding.

“I need y’er number.” His voice was hushed, like a murmur.

“What for?”

“For Johnny. Don’t ya want the job?” He said it so casually.

You nearly facepalmed and Simon leaned away, waist at the desk, no longer caging you. You still shuddered from his proximity, and bit your lip. His body warmth originally extended to you—but with him gone, it was cold.

Like November.

As you told him your number, you slipped up halfway.

“Not 5–I mean 9.” Probably due to your nerves.

“Slippin’ up, aye?” He couldn’t help the small grin that pulled at his lips.

“Get on with it, otherwise I’ll find another job.” You half joked, half threatened. It was empty.

Simon lips curled up even more, revealing teeth. Wolfish. His eyes crinkled under as he gazed at you.

“Nah, you’ll be a’right at this one.”

He then took your number.

——

That night as Simon went to sleep, he couldn’t stop replaying your figure perched up on the desk, hair illuminated softly by oranges and yellows of the sun, the way your lipstick hugged your lips. The way your sweater fell—

Enough. Damn it, Lieutenant. He thought to himself. He needed to do something. Anything.

Once again, 3am. He got up, stiff muscles straining and he grunted. He padded to his desk, pulled out his sketchbook with a sigh and slapped it down. He turned on his lamp, sat down, and began sketching.

By the time he was done, his charcoal rendered a soft, messy elegant figure of yours. Despite that lip you gave sometimes. The most pronounced feature being your eyes: the one thing he found striking.

“Fuckin’ hell…now she’s hauntin’ my mind.” Simons gravelly voice said, as fingers pressed and dragged down his face wearily. He slumped back in his chair, long legs protruding.

And now, she’d be at his job too. He grunted softly, arm moving down to the armrest. Fingers tapped the side in thought, pensive.

“Campus jobs aren’t much, so. You’re better off here.” He remembered his own words.

“Didn’t want her workin’ a damn illegal side hustle…” Simon muttered to himself, getting up. He switched his lamp off, and found himself getting comfortable in bed.

At least, he tried to.

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Rat Bastard - Part 6

Pairing: You x Kyungsoo

Rating: M (Mature)

Word Count: 11200

Warnings: There were too many beds, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Idiots to Lovers, Fear, Spiders

Tag: @ilovemyapopbaby

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

You’d expected some downtime; some boredom. It simply wasn’t possible for these three desperate employees to keep the two of you entertained for every minute of the day.

You had to admit you were both surprised and shocked when you actually saw the giant crate of activities and games; there were tons of board games, even more possibilities with the decks of cards you saw. There were even a whole slew of movies and a small device which you were told was a projector which would show the movie on any blank white wall, of which there were many to pick from. Mr. Chen was unpacking what seemed to be an endless bottomed box and you weren’t the only curious observer lightly touching the things that interested you the most.

You’d been instructed to grab items and make a stack of things you were interested in doing. You’d reached for one of the word games, one of the ones involving strategic spellings of words which you remember playing as a kid with your Grandmother and you placed it in front of you. This was your pick.

“Oh that one is fun, I haven’t seen this in years,” Kyungsoo’s fingertip touched just on the corner of your game and he picked up another classic with a grin, “this one too,” he said under his breath. It was like he was speaking to himself but he seemed to be adding things to your personal pile.

Did he think he was involved in your pile?

Did he take this, like the cooking exercise, as a team activity? The instructions implied that you were to build your own pile but Kyungsoo had just added Uno to the top of the stack he was building with your first choice board game trapped on the bottom.

You reached for the deck of cards because there was always poker and it also was vital for the backgammon game you’d just grabbed. You slowly began to build a smaller, separate pile beside the one he had commandeered, removing your first choice from underneath his and moving it to your own side.

“Ooo,” his eyes widened and he plopped Monopoly down right on top of your second stack, “I'm gonna kick your ass at that one.”

You lifted his game off of your stack and plopped it roughly down on top of his own stack.

“These are my picks, those are yours,” you mumbled a rhetorical, “who even wants to play monopoly?” You remembered the game being long and tedious. He looked at you and laughed once, grabbing another game, this one a music themed game similar to charades but with musical guesses and you’d heard through friends that he actually had a great singing voice. You never thought you’d actually get to hear it. He pointedly ignored your stack separating attempts and plopped this game on top of your stack.

“You're gonna sit all alone in a corner and play Scrabble by yourself? Come on, quit being stupid.” He ignored the small sound you made and grabbed your games, placed them in the same stack as his games and lifted the whole stack and walked away from you to set them on another table. He was already pulling the lid off of one of his games to start playing it and the other three people in the room quickly followed suit and began to pull chairs out of the table he was setting up. Those traitors. Why did his game get to be played first? You’d been standing at your original spot with your arms folded over your chest when he looked up from the money he was counting and separating to speak to you.

“Come and get your ass handed to you like a good little princess.”

You rolled your eyes harder than you’d rolled them before. You rolled them hard enough to really sell your annoyance at his antics. You rolled them desperately and very convincingly. Inside of your chest there was the most annoying little tickle brought on by his choice of words. This nickname of his for you sure had a way of making everything he said sound just a tiny bit suggestive. Or maybe you had just read too many trashy romance novels in your youth. God, you were lonely.

But more than lonely, right now you were bored. You pulled up to your chair for the game. Javier was the last to sit down after bringing over some snacks and some drinks. You were handed a champagne glass with orange juice and the first sip told you it was heavy on the champagne. It wasn’t even noon yet. He was back to his old tricks when you looked up into his eyes and caught the secretive smile.

Kyungsoo was sipping on a Bloody Mary with a celery stick in it and you braced for the first round of the game. You had always figured he was the competitive type. He had to be in his line of work, to have reached the levels of success as he had reached in such a cut-throat industry. And nearly every interaction you’d had with Kyungsoo had told you such. This man simply had to win. The way he wouldn’t back down from his story and lie against you and that level of stubbornness, well, he basically pitted everything he had against you. This translated into something entirely insane when playing a board game against him.

The first round of the game, when someone would usually settle into the groove of things, rolling their dice and moving their pieces, was unlikely to buy the property they landed on in the very first round — Kyungsoo’s first round came after the rest of the players had had a go around. Mr. Chen had purchased his property, Sara had landed in a space that gave her a few bucks, Javier didn’t buy anything and neither had you. You weren’t particularly interested in the cheap ones at the start of the board. Kyungsoo’s turn came around and he landed on one of Mr. Chen’s neighboring properties and immediately purchased it. Then his deals started. He was making a deal with Mr. Chen. Mr. Chen was accepting. He was grinning widely and spending money like there was no tomorrow. What about the future Kyungsoo? What would you do if you simply went broke? He was buying housing for his land. He was putting up buildings and you watched this crazy man go full tilt into this stupid game.

You figured you needed to do something on your next round and you bought whatever you happened to land on. Not really paying too much attention to deals and such, you weren’t a big negotiator.

The game progressed and every single one of Kyungsoo’s rounds felt exhausting. He was doing quick math, making deals with everyone else at the table, but weirdly he never once tried to make any deals with you. He was putting up more property every single time. You were sure he was nearly broke. There was no way this was sustainable. The deals grew more intricate with each round. There were even loans passing around between Mr. Chen and Kyungsoo who seemed to have developed some sort of a partnership in this.

Again and again, you were overlooked by the man who seemed to be setting up some sort of a scheme. He was the owner or partnered with the owner of nearly every single space in this game. It felt unfair. There should be some sort of a law against this kind of thing, it was like a monopoly — oh god, oh god that was the name of this game. He was an expert at it. He had been planning it from the start and he showed you in particular absolutely no mercy. In every single round, you lost money to him.

His fat stacks of bills grew to obscene amounts and he had to cash in some 5s, 10s, 20s for 100s or 500s. He was relentless with you. But only with you. You noticed he had a lot of leniency on the other players at this table. He giggled and gave Sara a discount with a sweet smile on his face during one of her stays at his fancy property, and when you pointed out that he wasn’t allowed to do that he just shrugged and told you he could do what he wanted with his own property while you sat in jail for four whole rounds, unable to roll doubles to get yourself out. You actually began to enjoy being in jail as you sipped on your third mimosa because at least you weren’t putting your precious money into that man’s demanding palm.

It all came to a head when you had just gotten out of jail and landed in one of his places. You did have enough cash to cover rent but just barely and he sat beside you flush with his cash, property, even get out of jail free cards, which he had traded Javier for a free stay at his most expensive resort for.

You looked at him and he looked at you with the smallest lift of a single eyebrow because he knew you were screwed. You had a single property card left that you had been holding onto to keep him from owning every single space of that color. You swore you wouldn’t give it to him but at this rate you might end up homeless with only this to your name. It was a miserable sort of existence. You couldn't afford not to be in jail and you missed the peace and quiet and free meals of those metal bars that protected you from this mad man.

The more you replayed the entirety of this game, It was becoming more and more evident that his entire game plan had been to bankrupt and ruin you. He made no efforts to partner with you, make deals with you and only ever seemed to create situations that would affect you negatively. He was so good at it too you wondered if he’d been training for years on how to be a grade-A asshole to his friends.

“Can I have a discount?”

“You don't deserve a discount.”

“You gave Sara a discount.”

“Sara isn’t a four-time felon. I might have to charge you even more for a security deposit. Who knows what sorts of sordid things you’ll be up to in there. I know your type.”

Sara’s little metal train play piece had been sitting in the jail space and you watched as she carefully moved her piece to the outer edge so it clearly sat inside the ‘just visiting’ space around the incarcerated section.

“Excuse me, I was not convicted of any crimes. I never even had a trial.” You couldn't help the actual offense you took at his words. Your type? What type? The poor, marginalized, under-educated, school to prison pipeline, falsely accused and incarcerated type? This society has been set up to see you fail. The entire system was against you from the start.

“That’s what they all say,” he laughed out loud, “Everyone in jail swears they are innocent.” His outstretched hand moved closer to you and you hmph-ed back in your chair with your arms crossed over your chest.

You were annoyed. You couldn’t help it. He was such a jerk and he was ridiculously against you in this game and in this life. You dropped your voice to a whisper and you leaned in closer to where he sat on his mountain of gold. “Kyungsoo, do you remember when we were cooking breakfast together? Do you remember how well we got along—”

You had his attention. He watched your face with a little lift of his eyebrow, no doubt his mind flying through a multitude of possible things you were about to remind him of — the embraces, the gentle and slow touches between the two of you, the pride in his eyes when you’d done something to please him — he looked down the length of your face as if he was compelled to and when his eyes bounced back up to look into your eyes once more you inhaled to continue speaking, “—when you weren’t allowed to talk?”

He lifted a hand to cover over his mouth and he snorted out a quick and silent laugh. It burst free from him and no amount of steely resolve could have kept that laugh inside of him. His eyes rolled closed with it and then back open and he lifted a hand, palm up and opened and closed his fingers twice. You hadn’t expected any other outcome. Not after basically telling the jerk that your favorite part about him was when he wasn’t speaking.

“You’re mean,” you said with a grumble and a severe pout of your lips, feeling actually upset deep down inside of you at how badly he had been picking on you during this entire game. The others at the table just giggled. “He’s crazy,” you heard Javier and Mr. Chen say to each other. His greedy fingers were leafing through your bills as he grabbed enough money to cover your rent, leaving a few small bills left behind.

By the next round you were bankrupt and out of the game.

You were only his first victim. It wasn’t long before partnerships were quickly abandoned in the name of record-breaking profits and long-time friendships were severed by filthy greed.

You just shook your head each time it happened, adding a loud “I told you not to trust him. Didn’t I warn you? He’s evil!” which was quickly countered with his overly defensive and judgmental rebuttal.

“This is how you play the game, Princess. Don't cry just because you’re bad at it. Think of it this way, you survived for six whole rounds and you even bought and sold property, which is much more than some incredibly stupid people do in their entire lifetimes.”

The group was imploding around you. A heated discussion about loyalty and friendship was being held over the sounds of crinkling bills and plastic clanking as properties were sold off to pay the man who was evil enough to become an actual billionaire if only this game had printed enough fake money to make that happen.

He won the game by crushing everyone else around him. You swore then and there that if you ever had the chance to see this man again, which was unlikely once you left this emergency shelter, if by some twisted nightmare of fate you ever had the misfortune of spending any amount of time with him and you were presented with the invitation to play this game again with him, you would throw yourself off the roof, you would hurl yourself into the sea, you would rather literally watch professional golfing marathons on tv. Never again. Not this game, not with this man.

Everyone needed a break after the game was over. You retreated to your space for a small while, laying down under your comfy down blanket and quickly deciding that you were simply too sick of sleeping to be in here. It was late morning and you’d had a few drinks by now and after leaving your room you wandered through the hallways, finding a space where one too many spiderwebs touched your skin that you just had to turn around and head back toward the kitchen.

It was mostly peaceful and empty here except for one person who stood at the stove. Kyungsoo was doing something in the kitchen and instantly, like a magic potion had been cast you felt all of the hard feelings about that game fade with the possibility that he might be cooking something tasty.

You slinked up by his side and he turned to the sounds of you coming, quickly spinning around and stepping to his ‘interior’ side to block your view of the pot he had on the stove. You didn’t smell anything delicious in the air and his hands were out the moment you arrived, grabbing you by the arms and holding you at a clear distance.

“What are you doing? Go back to your bed.” Your suspicions were raised. He was hiding something delicious. He was about to have ramen, maybe even two packs from the communal goods that Roxy and Jun had left behind and the filthy cheater was about to eat them both all by himself. You didn't see any piles of ingredients anywhere on the countertop

“What are you making?” You were direct with your words. You pushed your shoulders forward, trying to free yourself from his hold. He held on tighter. Behind you on the stove you could hear the bubbling of the water starting to boil. He would have to tend to his secret dish soon to keep from overcooking it. From the few times you’d cooked with him he was a stickler for cooking times and temperatures and doneness levels. He was insane about it.

“No, no, just go away,” you were being shoved backward with the two steps he took foward. His words didn't sound too serious. Whatever it was that he was hiding from you was fair game. You heard the soft grunt as he struggled and you tried to peer your head around his shoulder. He countered by tilting his own head to block you again.

“What are you making? Let me see. You’re sharing with me, I caught you so half is mine.” You were already giggling when you lifted both of your hands like claws and quickly began to stab him with your fingertips right on his ribs. “That makes no sense. Are you a squatter?” He said through a gasp and he yelped and let out some quick giggles with the tickling.

His hands moved from your shoulders to your hands. He was grabbing them and you felt spun in place, suddenly looking at the door with one of his strong arms wrapped around your chest. Your two hands were trapped behind your back and he held on tightly to both of them with his other hand, in an instant he had you trapped and you were facing away from the bubbling pot. Your hands were bound between your two bodies but you could totally still get him from here. You reached again, lower this time, feeling the lower part of his abdomen. You could hear his giggling from beside your head and you swear to God you felt a euphoric sensation pulsing through your entire body to hear it. You felt like you weren’t quite in your right mind, not with the alcohol, not with the desperation for a win against him. You were pressed right up against his body again and why the hell was he so strong? Why did every single touch of his hands feel like it would consume you from within?

“Stop, stop,” he was begging but still refusing to let you go. If he wanted you to stop, wouldn't he have let you go first, his strong hand still held both of yours tightly behind your back and you moved your hand lower, feeling the very real and sudden danger of reaching for a part of him you should never, ever touch. You felt the waistband of his denim shorts, the leather of the belt he wore there and his shirt shifted and you felt the warmth of the bare skin of his belly that surged with each of the heavy breaths he took against your neck. The rough but steady exhales seemed to change when you touched him. Something was changing and you slowed your hand, still pressed up against his skin, your fingertips lightly touching the leather of that belt. His hand that held onto yours moved too and you felt the soft tips of his fingers move just over your hand there. You felt the trembling and staggered touch of his hand. Why was he trembling? Why was his touch more gentle than the previous rough gripping?

“I’ll stop if you stop,” you exhaled into the space in front of you, “besides, I already caught you. There’s no use delaying this.” Curiously, you had both stopped laughing but his arms were still around you, although the tightness of his grip he held you with had let up. You could escape quite easily if you wanted to. You could leave his embrace and you should. You really ought to put a healthy amount of space between the two of you, if you knew how an enemy should be treated, if you knew what was good for you, you would.

You took the smallest step forward, thankful for the drop in temperature that brought just a little bit of sense back into your brain. You took another step forward and his hand that had been holding your hand still gripped along your palm as you moved. You weren't quite sure why you did not feel compelled to let his hand go, you held on to him with the same amount of pressure as he held you and you turned to take one look behind him at the stovetop with the pot that sat bubbling and dancing behind his back.

You saw something green, something green and white standing up inside of that boiling pot of water. Something plastic.

Something hilarious. The crazy man was boiling his toothbrush. You saw it and you covered your mouth to keep the snort from escaping. It didn’t help. You snorted in laughter and you could feel the shift in his body as he sagged his shoulders in defeat.

Kyungsoo was frozen. He made no attempts to stop you from looking just as he hadn’t made any moves to let go of your hand, and when you looked up into his face he was standing with his free hand covering his closed eyes. He was pink.

You were openly laughing and you shook his hand that you still held as you did it, “did you seriously boil your toothbrush, Doh Kyungsoo?”

“Shut up,” he whispered through clenched teeth, “this is why I didn’t want you to see.”

You lifted a hand to lay over his pink cheek and you were almost laughing too hard to get any real words out, “d-did you want to get r-rid of my foot germs, Kyungsoo?”

“Shut up,” you felt the smallest push against your hand away from his face, then another push against your shoulder and he was quickly spinning, letting go of your hand as he did it, as if he hadn’t also been the one to hold onto you for much longer than necessary even long after you’d both swallowed down whatever might been happening with your hands behind your back a few seconds earlier.

“God, you’re so mean to me. I can’t believe you did that. I asked everybody and nobody has any extras. You know the worst part? I can't even tell if you’re telling the truth about it. Did she really use my toothbrush to clean her foot? Did she really scrub between her toes or is she just fucking with me again. You make me feel crazy. All I want to do is brush my teeth…but feet…toes,” he was whining now, full on whining half mixed with giggles because even he knew how insane he sounded. He was using the handle of the toothbrush to stir it into the boiling water. You could feel the spasms of laughter build up again in your belly. You had to hold onto yourself to keep from doubling over.

“Oh so I’m guessing you’re not one of those guys with a foot fetish then,” You joked as you busied yourself now with gathering things so you could make your own damn ramen.

“Sorry to disappoint you but I do not. Even so, a foot fetish is not an ‘ancient bacteria from the dirty floor of an 18th century, spider infested, bunker in my mouth’ fetish. What if you single handedly brought back cholera?”

“I don't think cholera is gone. I think it still lurks.” You still couldn't help the giggles even if you absolutely did not like the idea of your sleeping space being spider infested. You hadn’t quite worked up the courage to inspect all of the dark spaces around your bed for fear of what you might find.

“Great. That’s great news. How long do I need to boil this to kill cholera?” His face was exasperated now, half laughter mixed with a hopelessness that was absolutely adorable on him.

You found yourself staring at him. You came to when he’d long stopped giggling and his eyes bounced a few times over your face, his eyebrows lifting up with the tiniest bounce of his cheekbones, lips lifted in the corners slowly flattening out with the tiniest flinch of his face. It was the winding down of his laughter and he licked his lips, leaving them behind wet.

He cleared his throat. You closed your eyes, unable to keep them completely closed, your eyelids fluttered, fighting you to open back up and look at him for longer, and the breath you inhaled didn’t seem to help with any of this.

You needed something to do. You’d gathered some packs of ramen and the camping stove and fuel from the communal table and you plopped it all down on the countertop beside his boiling pot o’ toothbrush.

“Make me ramen,” you said with a little lift in your voice and tilt of your head. Not quite a request, not quite a command, more of a sweet suggestion. “Think they’d let us eat outside on the patio? I think the wind has died down a lot. It’s just raining now”

He’d finally reached some imaginary bacteria killing length of boiling time and he was tapping the toothbrush on the side of the pan to remove the excess water.

“You’re not going to try and commit suicide again are you?”

You shook your head back and forth, placing your hand over your heart, “I won't even go close to the edge, I promise.”

“Your promises mean nothing.” He deadpanned, but he was reaching into the fridge for some eggs, reaching into the shelves for the cans of spam he’d put there and stacking it all up on top of the the stove as he made his way toward the patio door.

“Bring the water bottle there,” he pointed to the countertop and you grabbed the big bottle and brought it along with the pan for him to cook in, and some chopsticks and spoons for both of you. For the first time since this trip started you cautiously began to feel a little bit happy to be here with him. He would make you delicious ramen and maybe you’d get to steal some more glances at his pretty face without getting caught.

He’d already been out on the patio to drop off the supplies by the time you came to the door with your arms full, he held the door for you. He seemed to be going back inside for something and you heard him call back toward you, “Hey! My batteries. You never gave them to me. I’ll bring them with the radio.”

So much had happened since then that you had just forgotten about them. You simply nodded as a response and told him they were in your luggage by the bed; wondering when in the hell you began to feel so comfortable with this man and you felt no qualms about sending him rooting through your luggage to find the batteries himself. You knew he’d have to get through many items such as the underwear you’d brought, the bikini he had already seen you in, the personal items such as your perfume, makeup, and your deodorant. All of those things were right there for him to witness. Little human things that had no business being embarrassing but were nonetheless.

A sudden panic built when you remembered a particular pack of items that you had brought along to this retreat that you’d all but given up on getting the chance to use here, the box of condoms you’d stuffed into your bag at the last minute. They would have been within touching distance of your big pack of batteries. There was no way he wouldn’t see them.

He took a while to return. You used that time to build up a thoroughly deep-set sense of embarrassment for what sordid conclusions you were sure he would have jumped to about you. Perhaps he’d find you to be some easy or cheap floozy. You were an adult. You were allowed to partake in and enjoy sex. You were healthy and alive and you had regular doctors appointments and you took your sexual health seriously. Why did it feel so weird though? That he might know this about you when he saw them; that he might have an opinion on the quantity of condoms in the box, a generous 20 pack, not because — not because you intended on having sex 20 times in a single week but, but because — Well … well, what if? The packs they had at the store came in 3, 10, or 20 and what if you had met the love of your life here and what if you just had to close up shop after 10? What if time number 11 was going to be the best time? You were thoroughly overthinking this. You were an expert at this, overthinking things and making yourself feel embarrassed for no reason especially when it came to Doh Kyungsoo. It was practically your default setting with him.

The door opened and you jumped in surprise; halfway through the scenario you’d imagined in which you hadn’t brought the brand new pack of 20 condoms and instead had just tossed in the already open box of 5 with one missing because you were curious about just how stretchy they actually were and you opened it to blow it up into a balloon. It was actually very stretchy and you might have just kept on blowing if you hadn’t been gagging from how awful the spermicidal liquid that filled it tasted when it got on your lips. Imagine if he found the open box with one missing already! Who had you used that one condom on at this stage in the game?! What would he think then?! You felt dizzy.

He was pushing through the doorway with a six pack of beers he’d swiped from Javier’s stash and he had his radio in one hand and in his other he gripped the batteries he’d found in your luggage right beside the big box of your stupid condoms.

He sat down on the bench beside you and you watched as he opened the little flap on the back of his radio and inserted each battery carefully, bringing it to life and switching between staticky radio stations until something clear sounded through with easy to listen to pop music playing. When he moved down to sit on the floor where the stove was set up, you quietly moved down to sit beside him.

You watched him work, feeling the very real remnants of the embarrassment you’d tricked yourself into feeling earlier still lingering in the warmth of your cheeks. He was setting up the stove and filling the pan with water, he was opening the packets of ramen and setting the flame to the right height below the pan.

You felt the need to do something too so you reached for the bags of snacks you’d brought, opening the bag and laying it flat, then reaching for the beers, pulling two off the plastic ring and opening them. You met his eyes briefly as he grabbed the beer you offered and after he took a sip of it he set it down and stared down at the pan full of water, just waiting for it to boil. He was quiet for a while until he inhaled to speak to you. You knew he had inhaled because you’d been staring at his face when he did it, when his pink lips parted and he pulled the breath in through his mouth and those lips stayed open enough for some words to come out.

“You alright?”

It was a small and quick question. He lifted his beer and tilted his head for the drink, a small stream of the liquid pooled inside his mouth and he dropped the can as he closed his mouth and swallowed it.

“Yeah,” you whispered just barely loud enough to be heard over the rain, “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

He shrugged, half of a shrug really. Barely even a shrug. “You’ve gone quiet,” he said and after the words his lips stayed open and you could see the tip of his tongue touching along the edge of his teeth for a moment. His eyebrows ticked above his eyes. “You’ve gone pink, too.”

You lifted your beer and took a big drink of it, holding the can up to lay over your cheeks. You could feel the heat in your face and the cold can helped just a little bit.

Not that he deserved it, but you felt weirdly compelled to fess up. You knew you were acting weird.

“I feel a little,” you started, turning your face away from him to continue, “weird…about something.”

“Weird like what? What about?” You hadn’t felt quite this disarmed around him before. It felt dangerous to let yourself speak so easily with him.

“Weird cause you hate me?” His next question came out very quietly and you pulled your eyes away from the raindrops steadily falling over to look at his face.

You opened your mouth to speak, finding the denial ready and heavy on your tongue. It was stuck there though and you closed your mouth back up and lifted the beer to take a long drink instead. The best you could do was the small head shake. You inhaled a breath and found he’d looked up from his boiling water to watch your face for your response.

Did he really want to ruin this nice moment to get into all of that right now?

“The water is boiling,” you said, meeting his eyes that still watched you without moving for two more swallows from this beer can you’d held onto for dear life.

He seemed to let it go. He was adding noodles and cracking eggs all fancy and one-handed, adding sliced spam and green onions on top. He was lightly prodding it all with the tips of his chopsticks and handing you the lid to use to catch the dripping noodles when they were done cooking.

You both grabbed noodles to eat at the same time and after he’d slurped up a particularly hot and noisy bite he sighed heavily while looking out toward the rain storm.

“Ramen really is the perfect food,” he remarked with his cheeks full of noodles.

Your nose was running a little from the steam and the spiciness of the broth but you held a ball of chewy and delicious noodles in your cheek and nodded your head earnestly. They were delicious and followed with the beer was even better than anything any 5 star chef could possibly whip up in the fanciest of kitchens.

It was when your mouth was filled with another bite some time later that he inhaled again, satisfied with his belly full of noodles, he turned to you and opened his mouth. His eyes narrowed at you before he said it.

“Twenty feels like a lot, though,” he said it so abruptly and you choked on the soup you were swallowing and started to cough, which he ignored, “logistically, I mean. This was originally a 5-day retreat.”

His eyes were still narrowed in your direction and you lifted a handful of the chips you’d opened up and threw several right at his face. His lips pulled into a teasing smile and he lifted a hand and swatted a few of the chips away. Two of them hit him in the face. His lips were pulled into a grin. You were still coughing and trying to keep your laughing from making you choke any more.

“No, no, listen,” he was laughing a little bit through the teasing, “that’s five times every single day, including day one. That means on day one, you have to have sex five times. Is it five different guys, or maybe two times for one guy, three times for another one? Or — god, is it one guy, five times in one day? Isn’t that too much pressure?”

You couldn’t breathe. You were laughing that painful laugh that takes every ounce of your oxygen away from you and never gave you a moment to pause for an inhale. You might just die right here, teased to death because Kyungsoo found your condoms.

“You just met them! I mean, I know that you’re obviously a beautiful woman. I will admit that,” his hand was lifted to his chest as he spoke, “and it’s much easier for a woman, especially one like you, to get laid; but five times? bam-bam-bam-bam-bam,” his hands were up and he was hitting one off the other one, a visual representation of the insane amount of sex you were having in this hypothetical scenario he was describing and you were trying your absolute best to breathe through your laughter. You felt tears running down your face from it.

He wouldn’t quit, “Sex. Straight away. No names, no facts about them, no rest because there’s no time. Right from day one, just … fucking. And then you have to keep up that momentum. Every single day, five times. It’s insane! How would you have time for anything else? Do you eat? Sleep? Shower?”

You’d moved at that point in his speech. You had leapt toward him. You needed to end this once and for all. This was what you feared might happen. You were laughing too much at his ridiculous analysis of the logistics of you bringing twenty condoms with you to be able to speak at all, you simply moved closer to where he sat on the other side of this pot of noodles and you reached up for him with both of your hands. You needed to stop him. One of your hands landed over his open mouth and you covered it tightly, the other one you wrapped around his shoulders trying to give yourself some leverage to stop him from talking about it.

He lifted a hand and pulled yours down from his lips, managing to eke out another giggle and a few more words, “t-twenty c-condoms,” he managed to get out and you struggled to pull your hand free so you could cover his mouth again. He was shaking with his laughter and you squeezed as tightly as you could, finding yourself practically sitting in his lap in the efforts to silence him. If he died from this he deserved it.

“Shut up, shut up, oh my god, shut up,” you cried through the horrified giggles, squeezing him tighter to try and end everything embarrassing that was happening right now. You hardly even felt the other hand of his that wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to him to keep you from falling into the hot noodles and burning yourself. It made your thighs part up high on his lap, right near his waist. The shorts you wore were so short you could feel the scratchiness of his jean shorts against your bare inner thighs. You could feel the warmth of him between your legs and you tried not to imagine how very tightly you were actually pressed up against his body, the warmth between your legs embracing the warmth of him. His grip around you was tight and this was probably only to keep you safe — the liability that you were, afterall.

You couldn’t have been the only one. There was just no way a single adult would come to something like this and not come prepared. When you managed to stop laughing enough to talk, you asked him.

“How many did you bring? And don’t lie to me and say you didn’t bring any.”

You released his mouth just so he could answer you and you watched his lips from up close as he licked them and opened his mouth to speak. You caught motion from his free hand and he held up his five fingers and his mouth silently spoke out the number.

“Five?” You flinched on top of him and his hand tightened around your waist, immediately pulling you back into him when you sagged away. You were slowly becoming more aware of how very close you were to him right now. The smallest shift of your hips and you would easily be straddling his waist. There was a growing humidity that built between the two of you where you connected with him here.

“Five,” he said with a slip of his eyes down on your lips, “a completely normal and reasonable pack of five.”

He bit down on his lips after the confession and you felt the muscles in his thighs below your ass shift, he wiggled just a little bit and with the wiggle you felt the slight change in how you sat on him. With that wiggle you could feel just a little more of his lap that you sat on and you could make out a definite flush in his cheeks, his ears, and the back of his neck. His lips in particular looked pinker when he bit down on them again and you struggled to pull your eyes up from them. You shouldn’t stare so long at his mouth. It brought up memories of the way he felt when he kissed you.

You could hardly make sense of his number though. You pulled your face back and shook your head in disbelief. You didn’t buy it.

“Just five?” You argued, “but — but what if you met the love of your life here and you’re both crazy about each other and wanted to just lock yourselves in a room for the whole week?”

He was giggling. You could feel it in his abdomen next to your inner thigh. Below your legs he felt firm and tense and his hand shifted as he adjusted his grip on you. His fingertips slipped beneath the fabric of your shirt and he felt even warmer than your burning skin felt that he now touched. His eyes were down on your lips again.

You couldn’t do this. You had to do something to stop this. This had crossed some sort of a line already.

“Well, maybe she’d be that one psychopath that brought twenty condoms with her.”

His words came out so quickly and they hit you like an electric shock.

The reality of this was back. It was an uncomfortable and dangerous feeling. It was splashing you in the face with cool water and you could feel the wrongness in it. This funny joke had gone too far. You saw it in his own severe reaction to what he had just said to you. He’d meant it as a joke, ultimately it had just been a funny joke.

After he spoke it, his lips flattened and the pinkness in his cheeks grew. His eyes which had been so playful suddenly dropped and he cleared his throat at the same time as you allowed gravity to take your balance and shift it away from him. His hand left your waist immediately and you scooted back and away from him, retreating to the other side of the noodles, off of his lap and out of his arms, where it was in your best interest to stay for good.

You had a renewed interest in your beer can. The brand was something local that you’d never had before and you read the back label from top to bottom without skipping a single word and without digesting a single word either. You could make out his movement from your peripheral vision and you heard the click and hiss of another beer can being opened, followed instantly by a second. It pulled your attention up from your own empty can and Kyungsoo was leaning forward with the beer in his hand for you to take, his flighty eyes not quite meeting yours except for the briefest of touches.

Without him perceiving you so closely you could feel yourself relaxing a little bit from the earlier humiliation and laughing fit turned inappropriate and stifling closeness that nearly suffocated you both with the unexplainable thickness of the air that had built up between the two of you.

Halfway through this beer Kyungsoo inhaled deeply, opened his mouth and asked you a silly question.

“Zombie invasion or Vampires?” he asked and you swallowed what was inside your mouth and looked into his face. He was looking down at his beer can absentmindedly while he clicked the tab with his thumb. It took you only a few seconds of thought and you shrugged, “Vampires, I guess.”

He nodded his head once and shrugged his face, “they’re only a problem at night,” he said in agreement. It was the same thought that you had about them. Zombies seemed like an all the time problem. Vampires would be solved with a curfew.

”Watching sports or playing sports?” You asked suddenly, figuring that this game involved taking turns. His eyes were lifted up into the air above his head and he pursed his lips, “playing sports, I guess.”

“Same.” You were nodding in agreement, finding sports on TV too boring to handle you much more enjoyed playing them even if you were never really great at any one sport in particular.

“Singing or Dancing?” It was his turn to ask.

You really enjoyed singing when you were alone, but you weren’t the kind of person to be able to do it in front of anyone. Still, if you had to pick one, you’d pick singing. You answered as such and his head ticked to the side with a cute eyebrow lift and a smile.

“Singing,” he said in agreement with you and you nodded your head, hoping he wouldn’t expect you to actually be any good at it. This was about enjoyment, not talent.

“Win the lottery or find your soulmate?” This one had him thinking. He had been such a crazy person while playing Monopoly you figured he would pick the money but after a few minutes of thought he shrugged and took a sip of his beer giving a soft “soulmate,” as his answer.

“Ohhhh, I didn’t expect that from you.” You teased and you swallowed more of your beer emptying the can completely as he watched your face for a few moments, probably expecting you to answer this one. You only nodded your head as a response. He lifted his eyebrows in question and you nodded again, confirming without words that you had the same response as he did. It was kind of spooky how many answers you both shared. Even weirder still that he understood what you were saying without you having to actually speak with him. It was something you’d noticed during some of the cooking challenges, the odd unspoken communication that just came easy with him.

“Right or left?” He asked very suddenly with a wide smile and you lifted up your right hand, shouting “exterior!” proudly and instantly. His eyes widened and gave you a round of applause before he asked another question, “East or west?” This one didn’t work. You lifted your hand and scratched at your lip, avoiding his eyes and pointing a finger in some direction that you’d just picked at random.

“That’s South.” He shook his head and furrowed his brows, “boooo,” he jeered at you and you shrugged in a hopeless sort of way with a giggle. “It moves around,” you whined and he shook his head slowly at you. “It absolutely does not. You move, it stays where it is.”

The sound of the patio door opening startled you both and you turned to see Sara sheepishly peeking her head out through the opening.

“Oh, here you are. I thought I heard laughing,” she said in her sweet voice, “we’re just starting a movie marathon, do you both want to join?”

It sounded fun actually. You’d wondered how much longer you two could play this or that before running out of ideas and you were nodding your head enthusiastically, pushing yourself up to your feet before Kyungsoo even had a chance to register the question.

“Oh, uhh — alright,” he said softly as if he’s only just now realized that he had been spending all of this time with you alone, the enemy — out of what, pure love for ramen? Need for fresh air and a distraction from the tedium? There was a movie marathon happening now, that was real entertainment. Not just a crazy girl who he could make fun of for packing way too many condoms for a 5-day trip, who doesn’t know directions, and who does awful things to him like call him mean names, attack his ribs because that’s where he’s the most ticklish, tries to suffocate him any chance she gets, and does terrible awful things to his toothbrush.

You were already cleaning up the space and gathering trash and used utensils to bring inside. Kyungsoo was only now standing up and picking up the last few beer cans and the remains of the delicious ramen he had made for you.

Inside of the kitchen the others had brought over some spare mattresses and pillows and laid them all out on the floor — they had turned out the lights and they were projecting a movie on the big blank wall.

It was something you hadn’t ever seen before, something grand and epic with a large sweeping universe, action, adventure and romance all in one. It honestly felt perfect for a movie marathon.

You could smell the microwave popcorn and you already had a cold beer waiting for you on one of the floor mattresses. You had a pile of pillows at your back and someone, god bless them, had gone into your room and brought your lovely winner’s blanket.

You eyed the rest of the group as they settled down in spots around the space, specifically leaving the space right beside you open for Kyungsoo. You noticed a cold beer next to his side as well. Normally you’d have gone out of your way to find another spot to sit. Or even drag a big heavy mattress over to use instead of having to share the same one with him. But now the movie was starting and there was really not enough time for all of that. You scooted closest to the edge of this mattress and out of your peripheral vision you saw him come up to the other side of this mattress and he sunk down into it, grabbing the beer and sitting a lot further away from the edge than you had done.

He wasn’t going out of his way to put as much space between the two of you as you had been. The lights were out and the movie began playing and soon this sitting at the very edge of this thing was becoming a bit too uncomfortable so you scooted yourself just a little bit closer to where he sat.

When you scooted though, you could suddenly feel the warmth of his thigh next to yours and as you adjusted you leaned against some of the pillows propped up behind your back, finding a bit more support when you leaned just slightly against his arm. You’d pulled your blanket up over your legs and pretended not to notice when his hand pulled the blanket over his legs too.

The movies were long and involved. Occasionally your mind would drift too far from the plot and the small whispered questions like, “wait, who is that guy again?” Would be met with whispered responses, “that’s the admiral’s son,” and your follow up realizations like, “ohh my god that’s why he’s being hunted,” got a white little hum as a response from him.

While you tried your best not to interrupt his movie watching experience you felt strangely comfortable asking him every single question that popped into your head and based on his calm responses you didn’t think he even minded it all that much.

The movie gave you whiplash though. It was quick with the surprises and it had reached a point when you’d already jumped four times from the dramatic twists and turns and you could feel some very real danger for the main hero when he found himself down in a dark pit, seemingly at the end of his luck. You could feel a creepy crawling sensation slipping up your back when you first saw them; it was spiders. Spiders. You felt a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach and you felt your breath feel sticky in your heavy lungs. There were so many. You were gasping. You were desperate for air but your lungs wouldn’t cooperate. Hundreds. Thousands of enormous, hairy spiders with thousands of legs and fangs; the sounds of their skittering feet and chomping jaws — the rooms filled with their webs, and human sized bodies trapped in those webs, wrapped up and wriggling and screaming. You felt your hands shaking and you had to close your eyes. You couldn't breathe. You couldn’t stop it. You were going to die right here without oxygen. You couldn’t stop it. You could feel their legs crawling all over your skin and you could feel their fangs sinking down into your skin. Ripping out chunks of your flesh. Burrowing under your skin. You had to dip your head down under the blanket and you were trembling all over and you couldn’t breathe.

“Hey,” you heard his low voice whisper out into your ear over the sound of the screaming, “hey, hey. Shh… you’re okay.” He was talking to you. You felt his arms rubbing over your back, you felt his arms wrap around your shoulders and he was rubbing you up and down in long slow pressured passes over your skin, shushing into your ear and willing you to calm down with the warmth of his cheek pressed up against your cheek.

“Shhh…They’re not real.”

“They can’t hurt you.”

“You are safe here.”

“You’re okay, honey, you’re alright.”

“Breathe in slowly,” he mentored the deep and slow breaths he urged you to take. You felt the slow rise of his chest as he did it. You gasped and your lungs stuttered as you tried to copy him.

“And out, slowly.” You felt the slow exhale he let out. He was so close, his breath warmed your face.

It took a long while. Your breathing was the first to begin to settle.

You’d lifted your face from where you’d been hiding against his chest and you found that you had been crying. It took you a few deep breaths to get your breathing to actually start to settle down and his words began to really sink in. You’d had some sort of a panic attack at the thought of all of those spiders and you must have been so stressed out lately being here with all of those bugs around you constantly, you’d simply lost your touch with reality for a moment.

“A-Are they gone yet?” You had it under control. You understood what had happened and you simply lost your mind for a short while but he brought you back. It was just panic. It happened occasionally and on those rare times when it took you over so completely, it took you hours to finally calm down. But here, here with him; he had been so quick to understand what was happening and he had been so steady and strong with his words and his distracting comfort. You felt taken aback and stunned.

It took him a few moments to lift his head out of the blanket and when he came back to you he gave you the smallest squeeze on your hand that he was holding and you knew it was over.

“They are gone,” he leaned his forehead against yours under this blanket and whispered the answer to your question.

“T-Thank you,” you whispered and you wiped your face with the back of your hand. You felt the small hum from his chest as a response and you held your breath when you felt the soft pads of his thumbs wiping the wetness from your cheeks. You felt like a mess. What a ridiculous human being you were. Unable to handle a little bit of fake spiders in a fake movie, you felt like an idiot. The shame from this was next to flood through your body and you whispered out a quiet word to him, “sorry.”

You felt his head shaking back and forth and he had already pulled both of your heads out from under the blanket that was quickly growing stuffy from the heat from both of your bodies.

“Don’t be. You’re fine.” He said it in such a matter of fact way, it felt so very true and finite. Don’t be sorry. You are fine. Then he squeezed down harder on your hand which he still held down somewhere under this blanket.

He wasn't letting you go. Was this just you being a liability again? Was he trying to keep you from weeping and screaming and causing a scene? You felt so caught off guard and nervous with him holding your hand like this that you felt too scared to move.

This fucking movie though, the whiplash continued because in front of you now, unfolded a sensual romantic scene. With you and Kyungsoo sharing this blanket with you on the same mattress and with your hand held tightly within his own, his fingers intertwined now within yours and the heavy weight of his bare knee resting atop of your bare thigh. They were kissing now. He had just walked in on her in the shower and he had shoved her roughly against the marble wall of the fancy hotel room and his hands moved to cup her bare breasts. The camera zoomed in on her nipples and his hands roughly gripped her ass. You stared ahead with your teeth biting down hard on your own lips when you felt the loosening of Kyungsoo’s hand as he straightened his posture and cleared his throat, and unwound your fingers from his fingers, your hand from his hand, he unceremoniously dropped you entirely and pulled his own hands together securely onto his own lap.

You felt oddly slighted but the scene had been too close to your first kiss with him for either of you to withstand.

The pair on the screen were fucking on a bed now. Seeing the quick progression of the love scene made you slightly thankful that he had let go of your hand when he did, even if you did feel a strange twinge in your throat for having been dropped like a hot potato by the man, his timing was spot on.

The second movie had finished. This was a trilogy and you’d all been watching this for hours now. You felt the need to get up and move your body some as a few of the others had done throughout the film.

You’d managed to untangle yourself from the blanket. Kyungsoo didn’t move when you left. He had taken on a more relaxed posture on the blankets and only the very slight reflection of the screen on his eyes gave you any indication that he was awake. But now when you looked at him, you no longer saw the reflection. His eyes seemed to be closed. You’d woken him up so early this morning; already it felt like ages ago.

In the back of this big room you caught sigh of Sara who had been pacing with an odd posture. You noticed she hadn’t laid down much on the mattresses during the films and she had opted for sitting up in a chair. She’d mentioned with a smile that if she got all the way down there she might not be able to get back up. Still, she was no longer seated but just doing slow and careful walking exercises here in the far back wall.

She caught your motion to join her and her shoulders straightened out as she greeted you with a smile. You noticed her hand fell down from where she had been touching her belly. Her smile was so bright that you figured she had just been absentmindedly touching her baby rather than feeling any sorts of discomfort.

“Are you here to join me in my walks?” She reached for you and linked elbows with you the moment you were within touching distance and you giggled beside this sweet woman and fell into step beside her.

You both took several slow and steady steps in a big lazy circle around the large open space. After a few moments of walking she squeezed a hand around your forearm and giggled into your ear beside you. “Has he kissed you yet?”

Always straight and to the point. You looked into her face with wide eyes and you could feel the heat filling your cheeks with the answer basically broadcasted with your reaction and her smiled widened further with the quiet little yelp of excitement that erupted from her chest.

“But he didn’t mean it,” you said in a whisper. She was still smiling and she nodded her head up and down, “Sara, he was just drunk.” She was giggling with her hand covering her mouth to keep her volume down.

“Oh psshh…” she waved a dismissive hand. “They never mean it,” she whispered, “until they do,” she added with a slow rub over her belly and a wild giggle and you gasped scandalously and tapped her arm to get her to cut that out. Your wordless denials had absolutely no effect on her. She had long ago left reality and now resided deep in la-la land.

“I am so serious,” she whispered with her head dipped down beside your face, “you don’t see the way he looks at you — no, the way he stares at you. If I didn’t know for the fact that he was terribly, hopelessly,” she inhaled and leaned into the dramatics with a suggestive whispered groan, “desperately in love with you, I’d think he was trying to set you on fire with his eyes.”

She lifted her head and touched the tip of her index finger to her chin, “actually I think it might be that too. He wants you to burn for him the way he burns for you. Gahhhhhh—” she was squealing again. You had to shush her to remind her to keep her voice down. Strangely she quit squealing quite abruptly and her hand was touching over her belly again with the smallest gasp.

This couldn’t have been a coincidence, you’d seen her touching her belly many times at this point with a sort of pensive look in her eyes.

“Sara, are you okay? What’s happening?”

Her mouth was shaped into an o and she exhaled slowly through her mouth.

“Just, normal aches and pains involved with growing a person inside of your body. It’ll pass,” she was assuring you of this but you couldn’t help but notice the light sheen of sweat that covered her forehead.

“Come sit down,” you pulled lightly on her arm, urging her to relax now but she pulled you back.

“The walking helps,” she said with her eyebrows furrowed together and her slow and steady exhale leaving her chest in a purposeful rhythm.

You felt a surge of worry with the realization that you had been watching her walking in slow and steady circles for the better part of three hours now. The walking helps, helps with what? Was she in labor?

“How long are the pauses in between?”

“It was — hours but they’re getting closer. It’s probably nothing,” her smile was back. She’d straightened out her shoulders and shrugged lightly, as if having a baby right now in the wake of a strong hurricane while not in a hospital was no big deal at all.

“We have to tell someone,” you said, moving through the large space of this industrial kitchen until you reached the space where the movie was playing. You found a sleeping Javier and a groggy Mr. Chen who noticed your movement. You kneeled down and whispered into his ear. He caught the important words, namely ‘Sara’ and ‘baby,’ and he was standing up instantly, tapping Javier roughly on the arm who woke up with a start.

“Javier, get up. Your wife is in labor. I have to call her sister. Oh my god, I’m going to be an uncle.”

Wife? Javier and Sara are married to each other? Uncle? Were all of these people part of the same family? The words came at shock to you and their quick movement woke Kyungsoo who sat up and rubbed his eyes.

The movie was turned off. There was a flurry of activity and movement and Mr. Chen and Javier were arguing with an impossibly stubborn pregnant woman who was so clearly in labor that she had to pause every ten minutes for breathing exercises before she would continue with her denials.

“I just don’t want to miss them,” she whined with a deep frown on her face and she motioned toward where you and Kyungsoo stood, “they got so close, it almost happened. And you’re telling me I can’t just cross my legs and go later? I think I can hold it.”

Sara was crying. She was irrationally invested in You and Kyungsoo’s story and she was in pain.

You assured her that there was nothing important here that she was going to miss and she needed to go with Mr. Chen and Javier now. She needed to go meet her new baby. They were headed to the hospital. Mr. Chen assured us that he was an expert at navigating the treacherous weather worn and flooded roads of this island and he would deliver her there safely. He even promised to return tomorrow as soon as he was able to and Kyungsoo got everyone’s phone number so they could send updates.

The big heavy door to the front of the building closed shut tight with a heavy bang and you found yourself standing in absolute silence opposite an equally quiet Kyungsoo. For the first time since you’d met him you were really completely and undeniably alone with the man who — against every single desperate and gasping breath and scream as evidence of your stubborn denial — alone with the man who you were in love with.

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6